


Antique Champagne

by fuzzyizmit



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Attempted Sexual Assault, Bigotry & Prejudice, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Combat Zone (Fallout 4), Dancing, Drug Use, Drugs, Ensemble Cast, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fear of doctors, Flashbacks, Goodneighbor, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Medical Trauma, Memory Den, Music, Musical References, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pole Dancing, Recreational Drug Use, Singing, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tags May Change, The Slog, The Third Rail, Vampires, Wet Dream, iatrophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2019-07-10 16:00:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 73,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15952721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzyizmit/pseuds/fuzzyizmit
Summary: Not everything interesting happens to the sole survivor in the wastelands of the Boston Commons. A mysterious outsider named Payne decided to make Goodneighbor their new home, but can they really put down roots? Will she ever find more than just a place to rest her head?





	1. Welcome to Town

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason, AO3 thinks I have stopped updating this fic on Sept 21st 2018. That is not the case. I have no idea why the date isnt updating. Sorry for any confusion.

[(original post)](https://antiquechampagne.tumblr.com/post/177534637505/chapter-1)

 

Payne looked up at the giant neon arrow, the red and blue light playing off the face shield of her blastmaster helmet. Goodneighbor seemed the best bet to find a safe place to take a breather. Well, at least safer than any place she had found so far in Commons. At least it has some decent defenses.

Pushing open the heavy metal door with a creek, two storefronts greeted to her that both appeared to be open. Payne quickly scanned around. The street appeared to be mostly deserted, which seemed about right given the time of night. As she stepped into the street, a man strode into the street light, blocking her path.

“Welcome to Goodneighbor. First time, eh? Sounds like you might need some insurance.”

“Not interested.”

Payne ignored him and walked towards what appeared to be the general goods store. As she passed, his hand shot out, roughly grasping her arm.

Growling, the thug spat “I don’t think you heard m…” Payne shifted her weight and came down hard with a boot to the back of his knee. Falling forward, he let go of her arm to catch himself. As her momentum carried her, Payne spun, smoothly grabbed her combat knife from behind her back and slid it under his chin. She drew him up, slowly, until his ear met her chin.

“I said I’m not interested. Understand?”

Sheepish and wide-eyed, he nodded in acknowledgement as thin beads of blood ran down his quivering neck. Payne released her grip, wiped off her blade and put it carefully back into its sheath hidden behind her ragged black duster. She continued to the merchant.

“Now now, just look at that. I was going to close up shop for the night, but you put on such a good show… I’m going to stay open just for you!” the ghoul behind the counter chuckled. “Daisy’s the name. What are you looking for? I’ve got a little bit of everything. KLEO next door has all the weapons you can shake an irradiated stick at.”

After a few minutes of searching, Payne has picked out a smattering of food and meds, while putting up a stash of junk for trade.

“What else is there to do in this town?”

“You can wet your whistle at The Third Rail. Magnolia’s voice is the loveliest this side of the Charles River. The Memory Den draws a…  _particular_  crowd, interested in reliving their pasts in the Memory Loungers. I wouldn’t recommend it. Most things are better left in the past. If you don’t want to sleep on the ground and have some measure of privacy, there is the Hotel Rexford. Man, that place used to have the best parties. You can pick up chems there too. Look for Fred Allen.”

As Payne packed up the newly purchased goods she thanked Daisy and headed over to see what KLEO had to offer at the aptly named  _Kill or Be Killed_. A jet-black robot stood tracking her with a single glowing red laser. From Payne’s observations in the Commonwealth, assaultrons could quickly turn a situation lethal if they became hostile.

“Hello. I have to say, I like your style. Very  _assertive_.” The robot purred. “What are you buying, baby? Oh, and don’t worry. I only test the weapons on the customers I don’t like.”

While browsing the ammo, an item on back shelf caught Payne’s eye. It was bright white, as sterling as a used piece of armor could be, stood out between the gunmetal and worn leather that packed the place.

“What’s that?” Payne inquired, nodding with her chin. “That white helmet in the back. I haven’t seen anything like that before.”

“You must be new around here.” KLEO brought the helmet closer for Payne to inspect. “Surprised you haven’t at least heard of the big bad boogiemen of the Commonwealth, the Institute with their Synths. Robot body snatchers. This piece right here is a helmet from one of their uglier models. Not classy, like yours truly.”

Turning the helmet over, Payne nodded in approval, her gloved fingers trailing down the full faceplate. “Do they ever show up in black?”

“Sorry, sweetie, the Institute just loves the shiny tin man look.”

Payne handed the helmet back. “Thanks, but maybe another time then. I will take this ammo though.” Slinging her bag back over her shoulder, she headed off down to The Third Rail.

Heading past the tuxedoed bouncer and down the stationary elevator, Payne sauntered up to the bar. The mismatched stools appeared like broken soldiers lined up in the sultry light. Only a few patrons peppered the scattered ratty couches and stained tables. Payne placed her helmet on the bar and shook out her long black hair as the Mr. Handy bartender wearing bowler hat jetted lazily over to her.

“Name’s Whitechapel Charley. Whatya have, guv? We got beer.”

A single black eyebrow cocked up. “Really?” Payne nodded towards the back of the bar which was lined with row of colorful, and sometimes glowing, glass bottles. “Then what is all that? Is that Nuka-cola Dark? Man, I haven’t seen one of those in ages.”

“Very cheeky. You actually planning on buying anything?”

“Whiskey.” Payne placed her caps out on the bar. The ghoul sitting a few seats down slid down into the seat adjacent to her.

“So, new to Goodneighbor? How’s she treating you?” his coarse voice rolling over a silvered tongue.

“Well, if you like getting the shake down as soon as you step in town, then great.” Payne growled.

“Oh, really? Let me guess. Tall, bald guy wearing leathers.” Payne nodded. “That is not a very neighborly way to act, now is it? Finn should know better.”

“I handled it. If things like that continue to happen, though, I may just lose my temper.”

The ghoul cocked his head and a sly smile splayed across ropey features. “No need for that, babe. Everyone is welcome here, if you play nice. You can play nice, can’t you?

“As long as people play nice with me.”

The lights dimmed, drawing everyone’s attention to the stage, set up with a single silver microphone.

“Now you are in for a treat. Magnolia has the loveliest pipes around.” Payne looked towards the stage. As she did, the ghoul nodded to the bartender, retrieved his tricorn hat and quietly slipped out. A slim woman dressed in a sparkling red evening dress and pin straight hair mounted the stage. Just as promised, the air soon filled with the honeyed tones of her sultry jazzy voice. Payne sat sipping whiskey, the notes tickling long forgotten memories.

When the house lights finally returned, Payne rotated back to face the bar, the wistfulness draining from her eyes. Sentimentality was no friend to a wastelander. As she finished the last drops of her whisky, Whitechapel Charley returned.

Taking her glass and whipping the bar, he asked. “So, what brings you to town. Looking for some work?”

Payne’s eyebrow arched. She was starting to run a little low on caps. “I’m listening.”

“I got a dirty job that needs to get done. Anonymous client who wants the job done clean and quiet. Still interested?”

Payne nodded. Dirty work normally paid more anyway. “How much?”

“200 caps for a total clean up. Payment after the jobs done and don’t worry, I’ll know when it is. 3 locations, warehouses in town. No witnesses. You can understand why I can use my regulars.”

“Consider it done.”


	2. Cleaning Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Payne takes on a job to do some deep cleaning in some warehouses.

[(original post)](https://antiquechampagne.tumblr.com/post/177638241630/chapter-2)

 

The Hotel Rexford was one of the most comfortable place Payne had slept in in recent memory. An actual mattress inside, out the elements, was a rare treat. She had forgotten how much she missed them after spending so much time on the road. She hoped she would have the good fortune of staying here for at least a little while.

Waking up around noon, she headed out into the street. Drifters chatted along the curbs and the neighborhood watch silently watched for trouble. Payne thought they looked ridiculous in their gangster uniforms, but they seemed to be keeping the peace well enough. Passing the Memory Den, behind her helmet her eyes lingered on the marque. 

Memories are a tricky thing, she thought, they both guide your feet and hold you back. 

However, this afternoon wasn’t for philosophy, it was for reconnaissance. Payne lingered around the first location, which was near to the Memory Den. The doorway was semi secluded, but she would still have to wait until the street was quieter. Rounding the corner around the State House, the next two warehouses where ahead to her left, but something far flashier caught her scrutiny. A man wearing a tight blue jumpsuit had just entered Goodneighbor, followed by a scruffy German Shepard. Like clockwork, the same thug who had grabbed her the night before started in on his spiel.

Payne sat back a little to watch, wondering if the guy was actually a green Vault dweller like his suit suggested. His brazen smartass reply of “ _Unless it’s ‘keep-dumb-assholes-away-from-me’ insurance, I’m not interested”_  brought a smile to her face. This new guy either had some balls with the muscle to back it up, or was about to get splattered on the pavement for mouthing off.

As the Finn laid on the pressure even more, a figure stepped onto the street. It was the ghoul from the bar, but this time Payne got a better look at his red frock coat and distinctive three-cornered hat. The scene suddenly got incredibly tense as Finn a squared himself to this new player. Terse words flew. Just as she thought might happen, Finn had overplayed his hand and ended up a bloody pincushion on the pavement, victim of the ghouls’ switchblade. She did pick up a few useful tidbits including the ghouls name and title: Mayor Hancock. When the show was now over, Payne melted back into the shadowy alleyways, Hancock retired to the Statehouse and the Vault dweller wandered the streets to gain his bearings.

After a few hours, Payne had mapped out her plan and headed down to The Third Rail. What better way to spend waiting for the sun to set than nurse a drink and listen to some music? Whitechapel Charley even had an offering of vegetable soup on the menu, proving that once again, there was more to buy than just beer. Magnolia wove her magic on the crowd, winking at her regulars.

Once the sun was down, Payne made her way into the street and off to the first warehouse she scoped out. Easy money tonight, she mused to herself. If she played it right, she wouldn’t even have to waste any ammo.

The lock popped easily, and she slipped inside silently. Between a couple of rusted file cabinets, Payne listened. Between breaking glass and shuffling garbage, she could hear a few voices in the next room arguing. They were looking for something. Unsheathing her knife, Payne waited.

“Screw this, man. It’s not here. I’m going to help Jack and the boys upstairs.” One of the triggermen passed by Payne on his way to the stairs heading up. She noiselessly dispatched him before he hit the first landing. The other gangster, still hunched over and rummaging through a pile of boxes, hardly noticed when Payne slid her blade between his ribs.

Taking a moment, Payne trained her sensitive ears up. She could hear shuffling foots steps and muffled conversations. She could smell the blood pooling at her feet. She had to hurry this up; she had two more buildings to clear out tonight. Pulling out her silenced 10mm pistol, she made short work of the rest. She left everything behind. Not only did she not want to be traced to the scene, but whoever was paying her wasn’t too keen on being stolen from. Before heading to the next warehouse, she made sure to clean up enough to not raise suspicion.

The second warehouse was much like the earlier one, the first few triggermen falling to a blade and the rest to well-placed bullets. The third started out going well, but all that changed when Payne accidentally kicked an empty Nuka-cola bottle on the way to the top floor. It bounced down the stairwell behind her, shattering when it reached the bottom step. Internally, Payne rolled her eyes. Of course something had to go wrong.

Payne quickly ducked around the wall of the stairwell, taking cover as a hail of bullets rained around here.

“Over there, did you see that?” Barked a triggerman, his deep growling voice betraying his ghoul nature.

“Yeah, over there.” That one was human, his voice smooth and even.

“Here, catch!” A Molotov cocktail sailed past the wall Payne was taking shelter in, hitting directly in front of her. A curse escaped her lips as she moved away from the flames. The beast inside, stoked by an evening filled with adrenaline and death, roared to be released. She was getting hungry. Payne concentrated hard. Time seemed to stop as she listened, intent in finding the quick staccato beats of her target’s hearts. In an instant she had them. Three triggermen, one ghoul and two human.

“Did you get it?” the ghoul yelled across the room.

“Hell if I know? Go look. We’ll cover you.”

The ghoul slowly skulked forward, keeping his tommy gun trained on the stairwell. The fire hadn’t really caught much but the old lath was still smoldering and smoking, obscuring the ghoul’s field of view. In an instant, Payne popped out in a low crouch, shooting up into the ghoul’s face as he was just about on top of her. His back of his head was gone instantly in a boney red mist. Payne caught his body as it fell lifelessly into her, using it as a shield as she forced herself into the room. Ducking to the side, she found cover behind a few overturned desks. A few of the triggermen’s bullets had made it through her meat shield and Payne bled from a handful of shallow grazes. Bullets continued to dent the steel tops as she steadied herself. This time, when she popped up from the cover, she wasn’t aiming to kill, she was aiming to maim. The hunger wanted them alive.


	3. Meeting the Boss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Payne meets Hancock and Nate, getting a taste of their personalities.

[(original post)](https://antiquechampagne.tumblr.com/post/177713374710/chapter-3)

Payne again sat down at the dingy bar between several patrons, her ancient stool creaking under her weight. “I hear the rats were all cleared out of a certain number of old warehouses last night. Would ya happen to know anything about that?” Charley slowly finished cleaning out the cracked glass with a filthy rag before placing it behind the bar.

Payne tapped an index finger on the wood. “I think I might have some idea.” 

Charley unloaded the caps discretely into her waiting hand. “As agreed, 200 caps.”

Sitting next to Payne with a sly grin, Hancock turned to face her. “I have to say, I really appreciated how through a job you did. Nice to see someone take pride in their work. Name’s Hancock, mayor of this lovely little slice of Heaven on Earth.”

Payne swiveled to face him and unflinchingly offered her hand.  “I’m Payne.”

Most people kept to themselves around ghouls, particularly the ones they didn’t know well. Even subconsciously, normal people tended to shy away or flinch when they had to come in contact with a ghoul. Hancock appreciated the gesture and returned it.

“Kinky. I like it.” His black eyes were alive with mischief. “Anyway, I have another proposition for you, if you are interested. Come around the Old State House a later, around noon. I have a little something planned to rouse the rabble, but we can talk afterwards.” With that, Hancock got up and left.

With Hancock gone, Whitechapel Charley returned. “I’m gunna give you a word of warning, guv. Don’t cross Mayor Hancock’s. Or his body guard Fahrenheit. You’ll regret it.”

“Point taken.” Payne conceded. “Now, get me that Nuka-Dark.” The dark bottle beckoned.

“It’s been calling your name ever since ya got here, hasn’t it?”

“It sure has, Charley.”

After slowly finishing her prize, Payne headed down to the Old State House. It seemed most of the town had gathered under the second story balcony. The balcony was festooned with an ancient patriotic banner, the faded red and blue flapped against the stone railing. Payne leaned against the corner of two building across from the square, watching the drifters, addicts and killers weave around, waiting for Hancock to appear. She watched as the vault dweller also appeared. As he came close, his dog wandered closer to her, sniffing the air around her.  His ears flattened and a faint growl escaped is curling muzzle.

“Hey now, Dogmeat. Quit it!” His owner chided. The dog stepped closer, tension playing across his features.

Payne relaxed her posture, lowered herself down and offered a hand to sniff. Slowly Dogmeat approached her, cautiously inhaling her scent.  Looking up into Payne’s eye, Dogmeat began to relax. She reached out and scratched behind one of his floppy ears.

“Cute dog.  I had one when I was a kid. Miss her.”

Payne could see the relief in his owner’s eyes. “He’s a good dog.”

“Interesting name. Where did it come from?”

“I don’t know, he had it when I got him. Oh, and my name is Nate.”

“Nice to meet you Nate. I’m Payne. While I haven’t been here all that long, you don’t look like you are from Goodneighbor.” She pointed to his vault suit.

“Yeah, that’s a strange story. As you guessed, I’m from a vault. Vault 111.” As soon as Nate had finished his sentence, a hush had come over the crowd. Everyone’s attention was drawn to the balcony as Hancock, looking both imposing and cartoonish with his regimental getup, took to his stage.

After warming up the crowd by flirting with Daisy, Hancock addressed everyone.

“We freaks gotta stick together! And the best way to stick together is to key an eye out for what drives up apart, you feel me? Now what out there in our big, friendly Commonwealth would want to drive us apart? What kind of twisted, un-neighborly boogeyman would want to hurt our peaceful community?”

The mood started to galvanize. “The Institute and their synths!” yelled a drifter in the front row with his fist in the air.

“That’s right! Who said that?” Hancock leaned over the railing.  “Come up to my office later. You’ve earned yourself some Jet.”

Hancock paused, Payne was unsure if it was for effect or if he forgot the point he was making. “The Institute! They’re the real enemy!” He waved a finger in the air. “Not the Raiders, not the Super Mutants, not even those tools over in Diamond City.”

“I don’t know, Hancock. I’d sure love to give McDonough a kick in the ass!” sassed a ghoul from the neighborhood watch. Many in the crowd nodded or clapped in agreement, anger and pain etched on their faces.

“Hey, we all know I got my own personal beef with that lard-head,” Venom nearly dripped from his words. “But stay focused! Now I want everyone to keep the Institute in mind.”

Hancock started to goad to crowd, lowering his voice, slowly ramping up the fervor of his works until he ended in a furor, the crowd worked into a rapped frenzy. “When someone starts acting funny. When people are doing things they don’t normally do. When family starts pushing you away for no reason. We all know who’s behind that kind of shit. And the only way to stop is to stick together. They can’t control us if we’re not afraid! Now who’s scared of the Institute?!”

“NOT US!” the crowd chanted in unison.

“And which town in the Commonwealth should the Institute not fuck with?”

“GOODNEIGHBOR!” The energy was palpable.

“And who’s in charge of Goodneighbor?!”

Rounds of “HANCOCK!” and “Of the people! For the people!” broke out. Payne didn’t know whether to be impressed or laugh. The image of desiccated ghoul with his fists in the air standing above of a throng of ardent supporters while the wind whipped his red coat in front was almost to unreal for words. Hancock certainly had a way with words and the people hung on every one of his.

After the crowd dispersed, Payne made her way to the Old State House. She wasn’t sure what Hancock might have in mind, but she had no doubt in the very least it would be entertaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors note: I was actually really conflicted while writing this chapter. The issue I was worried about was actually raised by my proof-reader as well. The issue is that I included Hancock’s speech. If you have played the game as much as we have, you know it almost verbatim. Other Fallout 4 fans will probably know it too (though I nearly missed it my first time through) and might be tempted to skip over this section. The issue is, who is my audience? Do I want to write for people who know Fallout by heart, or include those who might not know everything? I am going to err on the side of including tidbits of established/well known lore occasionally, even if it might be a bit predictable for some hardcore fans. I am going to try and put my own spin on things and include bits of detail to help flesh plot points out to keep it engaging for the hardcore fans reading. I included the speech to use it as an example of Hancock’s character and charisma. Again, I am not going to make a habit of doing this, but I will use game dialog mostly as a jumping off point, reworking it where needed. I hope you will understand my choice and it doesn’t disrupt your enjoyment of the story.


	4. The Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready and Payne try and take out a raider nest. Things go very sideways.

[(original part 1)](https://antiquechampagne.tumblr.com/post/177807810510/chapter-4-part-1)

[(original part 2)](https://antiquechampagne.tumblr.com/post/177883347275/chapter-4-part-2)

 

Light streamed lazily through windows glazed in filth as Payne made her way to the second floor of the Old State House, passing strolling guards and napping drifters. Hancock was sitting on a couch while a second man wearing a dusty green hat lazed on another. A gruff looking woman leaned against a windowsill watching the whole room. Payne figured that was the bodyguard Whitechapel Charley had warned her about. Payne removed her helmet as a sign of respect.

“Good, we can get started. Payne, this is MacCready. You two will be working together on this job.” MacCready studied her. He didn’t look like one of the Neighborhood Watch guys, he had the look of a hired gun. “A band of raiders has claimed a spot in the Boston Commons. They have become quite a pain in my ass by harassing people along one of the safer routes.  That puts my supply lines in danger. I need you both to encourage those fuckers to move along and bother someone else.”

“Why us? Why not your own goons?” Payne asked.

Hancock’s eyes narrowed. “They’re not goons, they are the Neighborhood Watch and they protect Goodneighbor and her residents. Quite effectively, I might add. I’m just spread a little thin at the moment. I’m willing to pay to have someone take care of this problem for me. Now correct me if I am wrong, but you are for hire, yes?” Payne nodded. “Fine. Then we have an agreement. The two of you can figure out the details on your own.”

Once outside, they decided to take an hour to get their gear together and meet back up in front of The Memory Den. Payne went back to the hotel, grabbed her hunting rifle that she had hidden under the mattress and bought a few things from a blitzed chem dealer in the lobby. KLEO was next for ammo. When she got to the marquee, MacCready was already waiting for her. He flicked his cigarette into the gutter as they headed out into the city.

After about 10 minutes of silently walking, MacCready broke the ice. “So, how do you want to do this? What are you good with?”

“I’m a fair shot with a rifle, but I am better more up close and personal.”

“Fair enough. We’ll see how they are set up and pick off as many as we can before moving in.” Payne nodded in agreement. “Um…” MacCready stammered.” Where are you from?”

Payne let the silence hang in the area long enough for it to get uncomfortable. “Vegas.” MacCready’s eyes betrayed that Vegas was not an answer he had anticipated. Payne volunteered no other information, so he dropped the small talk. It was obvious that Payne was not interested. A few hours later of picking their way through the broken buildings and ruined streets, they came up to the spot Hancock had indicated.

Ahead of them on the intersection of two streets lay the raider’s camp, nested in the ruins of an old storefront. They had built crude short barricade out of rubble, giving cover to the front door. All of the windows were boarded up tight. Adjacent to the only way in sat an automated machinegun turret. It was a simple defense, but effective. They watched several raiders mill about, estimating that there were at about 6. Three of those seemed to be on guard duty, the rest were just lazing about drinking and rough housing.

Payne and MacCready had hidden across the street, taking cover in a former corner grocery store. They had tried to get to higher floors for a height advantage, but the stairs were blocked. It seemed like most of the buildings in this area were in particularly poor repair, most reduced to skeletal frames and piles of bricks. MacCready trained his assault rifle on the guards while Payne squared up the turret.

With a nod from MacCready, Payne opened fire. The turret started to smoke, but raised its barrel in their direction. She had hope to take it out with a single shot, but it had more armor than she had anticipated. MacCready muttered profanities under his breath as he pulled the trigger, hitting one guard in the shoulder and another in the throat. She dropped with a bloody thud instantly.  Just as the turret released its first volley of bullets, Payne’s second shot punctured the body of the machine. It exploded in a shower of flames and shrapnel. The raiders returned fire, forcing them back into cover.

Payne popped up, aimed at the injured guard, and took him down with bullet to the chest. What she couldn’t stop were the two raiders advancing towards them with pipe guns drawn. MacCready saw them as well and he tossed out a frag grenade. It landed close to where the raiders had taken cover. The resulting explosion left Payne’s ears ringing but it left another raider scattered in pieces. Payne turned to finish off the remaining advancing raider.

“Just great!” Payne thought after scanning the area. The raiders had taken cover behind a derelict car, which was now starting to smoke.

Payne ran past MacCready and out the door. “MOVE!” she ordered, laying down cover fire. They bolted behind a bank of mailboxes seconds before the car’s ancient nuclear engine exploded. Even behind the barrier they felt an intense wave of heat washed over them. The injured raider wasn’t as lucky as they took the complete brunt of the blast. They were dead before their burned body hit the ground several feet away.

“Get those mother fuckers! NOW!” growled a man from behind the wall.

More gunfire irrupted from the barricade, peppering their cramped position. Payne shouldered her rifle and grabbed her 10mm. It was time to get in close. The two of them carefully advanced, eyes straining for any movement. From behind a plywood sheet a raider shot wildly, only sticking their gun out and squeezing the trigger. MacCready splattered a hand to a bloody stump, forcing the raider to drop the gun. He rolled backwards in pain. Payne took advantage of the opening with a well-placed round to the face.  

“Fuck this…” The other raider, seeing their companion’s brains spread across the cobblestones, took flight. She quickly fell to a burst of rifle bullets.

Payne and MacCready continued cautiously forward. An eerie silence fell. They reached the gap between the walls, walking steadily towards door of the defunct store. Passing through the opening, Payne saw movement out of the corner of her eye.

“Watch out!” From the shadows of the barricade, a crouching raider sprang to the attack. Payne barely had time to turn and get a stray shot off before the raider brought his super sledge down to bear on her forehead. The force ripped a gaping hole in her helmet, snapping her head back violently. Macready spun around, emptying the remainder of his clip into the raider.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” They had made a grave mistake and miscounted. MacCready nervously looked over Payne. The pool of blood was growing around her head. As MacCready gently turned her over, Payne’s red and blistering face overshadowed his concern for her gashed and bleeding forehead.

“What the fuck?!” Something was happening to Payne, but he had no idea what. Radiation poisoning on top of a closed head injury? MacCready had no time to be confused. What he did know was that they were out in the open and vulnerable.  He needed to get her inside, away from another possible attack.

MacCready tried the door. Finding it locked, he quickly searched the nearest raider. In a bloody pants pocket, he found a key fob with a single rusty key. Quickly shoving it in the keyhole he tried the door again. This time it turned easily. After sweeping the room hastily, MacCready dragged a groaning Payne inside as carefully as he could. Her face was now filled with blistered which had started to bleed.

“Hang on…” he said.

* * *

 

MacCready dragged Payne over to a soiled sleeping bag. A few small groups of candles lit the room, throwing long dancing shadows whenever anyone moved.  He gingerly removed the remnants of Payne’s helmet and started to search for her med stash.

“Where the fuck are your chems, lady?” He pulled out ammo, food, junk, a pack of bandages… but nothing really helpful. Payne’s eyes fluttered open and she moaned again. “Seriously?” He pulled his own pack around and started to open it.

Payne was clawing her way back to consciousness, beating back the darkness by sheer will. Pain swelled around her as she slowly tried to open her eyes. The dim light was blinding. She could smell her burned skin. For a moment, she couldn’t tell if she was still outside. Panic set in. She needed to move, get inside, somewhere safe.

Payne tried to sit up, despite the agony and disorientation caused by her injuries. A firm and gentle hand pushed her back down.

“Don’t. I gotta find a stimpak or something for you. You took a nasty smack on the head and maybe a dose of rads, but you will be okay.” He turn his attention back to his kit.  _Maybe this is what ghoulification looks like_ , he thought.  _Shame, she wasn’t that hard on the eyes._

As room slowly stopped spinning and she could focus her eye, Payne caught a movement across the room that seemed out of place. Using all her remaining mental energy, she fixated on the space that appeared to be wavering, like the shimmering of a mirage in the distance but this was only a few feet away. Even before she fully comprehended what she was seeing, Payne reacted. She jumped up milliseconds before the shotgun fired. Startled, the attacker lowered their gun slightly, hitting MacCready squarely in the shoulder instead of the back of the head. Rushing the nearly invisible figure with an alarming amount of speed, Payne body slamming them into the wall.

The force of the blast pushed MacCready forward, sprawling him like a tossed ragdoll across the floor. Dazed and losing consciousness from rapid blood loss, he rolled over on his back, fingers fumbling for his gun. Before falling into darkness, the sight of Payne, bloodied and burned, violently ripping into the neck of now screaming raider burned itself into his memory.

__

MacCready had no idea how much time had passed when he finally woke up again. This time, he was the one laying on the dirty sleeping bag, which was now sticky with old blood. His shoulder pulsed in pain with each movement. Reaching over with his good left hand he lightly touched the tight bandage, was also wet.  Payne was sitting on a box by the door facing away, her ear pressed against the door.

“Payne…” MacCready said weakly. Payne put a finger to her lips. She had put on wide road goggles, hiding a lot of her face. MacCready noticed that what he did see looked remarkably unblemished. Payne reached down, picked up a simple sack hood and placed it over her head. She silently moved to MacCready’s side.

“Do you think you can stand?” MacCready nodded. “Listen.” She helped him to his feet, his head swimming. She helped him moved him close to the door. Listening through the door, he heard horrid slurping noises and ruckus unnaturally deep voices.

Super mutants. Giant deadly green skinned mutants with a passion for murder and dismemberment.

They must have moved in while he was out and took advantage of a free dinner. Another sound reached MacCready’s ears. He could hear it moving closer. The sound quickly became clear; a very distinctive repetitive beeping of an armed mini nuke. MacCready’s eyes said it all. There was a super mutant suicider right outside, gorging itself.  The only thing that kept them hidden was a flimsy door. They were boxed in. MacCready’s knees started to give out, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the trauma of his shoulder or the realization that they were sitting ducks. Payne caught him. While she gently helped him to a broken chair away from the door, passing the motionless body of the raider that had shot him, his head and shoulders hastily covered by garbage.

“I have plan.” Payne whispered. “But you have to trust me. I had to use all of the stimpaks to keep you from bleeding out and you are barely stable as it is. We need to get you back to Goodneighbor as quickly as possible.” They both knew it was too dangerous to stay put. The super mutants could just as easily decide to break down the door to see if there was anything tasty inside or set up shop outside, leaving them to starve. Payne dug a few things out of her pockets. “I found a few chems while I was taking care of you.” Her voice took on a sheepish tone “Some were donated…” She nodded her head towards the body on the floor. Med-X. Jet. Rad-X.

“Even tweaked out of our minds, we still don’t stand a chance against those things.” Protested MacCready.

Payne tented her fingers. “Hear me out… there is a small space in between the boards of one of the windows, enough to slip a hunting barrel through. If I can make it a bit bigger, I think I can get a bead on the suicider. We unlock the door, you shoot up, I shoot….” MacCready looked at her incredulously “and we run.”

“YOU….” MacCready stopped and composed himself, trying to stay as quiet as he could while still expressing his outrage. “You want me to run through a fucking mushroom cloud? In a super mutant nest? When I can’t even raise my gun? And higher than a fucking kite? Are you out of your god damn mind?” He could see black spots float in front of his eyes. He was a little closer to passing out than he liked.

“I’ll… help carry you.” MacCready balked again. “Hey, I’m stronger than I look.” He was still shaking his head in disbelief. “If you have any better ideas, I’m all ears.” MacCready looked at the pharmaceutical shelf sitting in his lap. None of the options seemed all that great at this point.

“What about you?”

Payne shook her head. “I don’t need them as much as you will.”

MacCready sighed “I can’t believe I am even considering this.”

“We can starve to death. That might be better than being eaten by super mutants. Or I can put a bullet in your head, since you might not be able to manage that on your own.”

“Fuck off.”

“Again, tell me you have something better.” An awkward silence hung in the air. MacCready shook his head.

Payne helped him back to the box by the door then took up a position at a boarded up window. She rolled her eyes. The hole she had eyeballed was just a bit too small. She would have to make it bigger without alerting the mutants. Luckily, as small scuffle erupted over the final scraps of the raiders. Payne used it to cover the noise of her breaking off some wood around the opening she needed. Placing her barrel in, they waited.

While they waited in silence, MacCready’s mind wandered. He thought the glimpse he had of Payne’s now flawless face. How she appeared to be in perfect command of her faculties even after taking a super sledge to her head. He remember the violent feverlike dream of her attacking the raider. None of this sat well with him. It stewed and festered in the still air.

Payne watched patiently. The goggles under the mask were uncomfortable and obscured her view. Sweat started to drip down her forehead as the day ticked away. As the sun started to set the super mutants started to bed down and she saw her opportunity.

Payne nodded to MacCready. Carefully he reached over and unlocked the door. The bolt slid out with an audible click. They both held their breath. Payne scanned the super mutants for any hint of alarm. She nodded again.  MacCready’s lungs burned as he huffed deeply from the inhaler as he plunged the other chems in tandem into this thigh. Time seemed to slow to a crawl around him as the poisons coursed through his veins.

Payne took her shot. The reclining giant had no time to react as miniature nuke strapped to his forearm exploded with blinding force. MacCready watched Payne drop her weapon as she ran over to him, looping his good arm around her neck and ran through the opening door. MacCready almost felt like he was being shuttled through a painting, the blast blossoming around them throwing shrapnel and body parts through the unnaturally still air, fiery tails tracing graceful arcs.  Heat washed over their bodies, but the pain seemed to be far away, almost like someone else was experiencing it.

Payne kept running, dragging MacCready along, and didn’t stop until she nearly collapsed on Goodneighbors steel door. Her chest heaving, she clumsily fumbled for the latch.  

Stumbling inside she managed to utter “Help.” And “Hancock” between retching gasps. She nearly dropped MacCready before a pair of startled watchmen gingerly took him from her. Hancock appeared, running from the Old State House, followed by Fahrenheit.

“What the fuck happened?” He demanded. Doubled over and struggling for breath, Payne couldn’t manage any answers. He turned to MacCready.

“We took out most of the raiders, but one bashed her in the head with a sledge, no super sledge.” MacCready’s words spilled out in a feverous pace. Hancock looked quizzically at Payne. “I got her inside, but there was another raider hiding inside…”

“Stealth boy…” sputtered Payne.

“He shot me in the shoulder… then…” MacCready’s tone turned dark. “What the fuck did you do to him? How are you even walking around?” He pointed a finger at her.

“I saved your god damn life, that’s whats what I did!” She was finally starting to recover.

“Then with those super mutants, what kind of screwed up plan was that?” He turned back to Hancock. “She popped the nuke on the suicide, filled me full of chems and RAN THROUGH A FUCKING NUKE BLAST LIKE IT WAS NOTHING!”

“You’re in shock. Get to the doctor.” Payne dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

“You are so full of shit, Payne. Who doesn’t carry any stimpaks on them? What the fuck are you?”

“Hey, Buddy, let’s get you to Dr. Amari.” Hancock intervened “We’ll figure this out later.” He motioned to the watchmen.

As they turned to lead him up the street, MacCready, still fueled by the drugs pumping through him, threw them off. Rushing Payne, he shot his good arm out, grabbing at her hood. Still winded, Payne backed up slowly. MacCready’s index finger caught on her eye hole, ripping a gaping hole in the musty fabric. Out of instinct, Payne covered her face with one hand and struck MacCready full force in the face with the other. He dropped hard on the cobblestones like a sack of tatos.

Payne recoiled. Hancock had his blade pointed at her throat.

His voice was as cold as steel. “Get inside. Try anything funny, and you are going to regret it.” Payne put her free hand up in a feeble surrender. She looked down again at MacCready. His bandages were starting to bloom with bright red again.”

“He’s bleeding.”

Hancock made flicked his blade towards the Old State House. “Stay put until I can get your side of the story.” Payne started up the steps, followed closely by Fahrenheit, her finger not far from the trigger of her minigun.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note:  
> -I am combining two separate tumblr post here, Chapter 4 Parts 1 and 2. I don't see any reason to keep them apart since I have already published them both.  
> -I hate writing action. I tried. I hope it’s not too horrible.


	5. Walk the Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Should she stay or should she go?

[(Original Post)](https://antiquechampagne.tumblr.com/post/177988838130/chapter-5)

Upon entering Hancock’s room, his “office” mused Payne, Fahrenheit’s presence was joined by several more guards who stayed out in the hallway. Payne took a seat on one of the dusty sofas, making sure everyone saw her movements. She removed her hood and felt the tender red welts and a few small blisters forming across her face. Luckily her exposure was only for a few seconds, they would be fading soon, but not soon enough. The hours dragged on and the sun set. Payne started to feel like she was waiting outside the principal’s office while they called her parents. Her face started to burn from more than just singed sun.

Hancock strolled in, his scarred fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “I gotta tell ya, what MacCready told me didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Would you mind bringing some light to the subject?”

Payne was on edge, her black hair pulled back into a tight bun giving her a fearsome visage. She stared directly back at Hancock, goading him to continue.

“You both took out the raiders, yes?” Payne nodded. “But after that things gets a little sketchy.” Hancock started to pace a bit.  “MacCready said things like one of them bashed your head pretty good and that your face looked like batch of bad brahmin chili. And that you chomped into another raider after that like a kid ripping into a pack of snack cakes. He said you didn’t have a single stimpak to heal yourself with. Looking at you now, it seems he must be lying to me.” He let the statement hand in the air.

“Here’s the thing, MacCready has always been straight with me. He’s never outright lied to me before.” He stopped and looked hard at Payne. “But none of that jives with what I am seeing in front of me.”

“We cleaned out the raiders, I saved his sorry ass from a raider with a fucking stealth boy AND I got us past a patrol of super mutants. I lost my damn rifle in this shit show, too.”  Payne rose defensively. Fahrenheit shifted her weight, priming herself if she needed to spring to defend Hancock. “On top of that, I hauled his ass all the way back here for help! He is lucky his isn’t in some super mutant’s guts right now!” Payne blood was boiling.

“That’s not what I am asking, lady.” He pointed a finger at her. “What kind of merc doesn’t carry chems, can shrug off head wounds and can run faster than the fucking wind? What the fuck are you?”

“I don’t need this shit!” Payne turned to leave.

“Walk out that door, and you are no longer welcome in Goodneighbor.” Hancock’s voice was low and steady.

Shoulders squared, Payne continued to stride forward briskly before stopping in the doorway to the room. She had meant to go through it, but something stopped her. Her emotions raged. Up till now she had never stayed in one place for more than a few days since leaving Vegas. She was tired of always wandering the wastes without a space to herself, a home base. Goodneighbor, with its seedy residents, mobster mentality and gritty streets reminded her of Vegas. She didn’t want to leave but she was afraid to share her secret. She wrestled with her want to find an anchor and the need to protect herself.

Again, her fist shot out, this time the splintered wood of the door frame embedded between her knuckles. Instinctually, Fahrenheit started to raise her massive gun, but Hancock motion for her to hold.

Payne stood silently, arm out stretched as her blood began to run down the wood.

“What are you?” Hancock prompted again, this time taking some of the edge out of his tone.

“You said before that ‘we freaks have to stick together’.” Payne turned her head, her steady gaze landing on Hancock’s. “How much do you really mean that?” She turned away from the door to face him.

Hancock studied her reddened face and bleeding fist. “Every word of it, sister.” He purposefully walked to the couch and sat down, nonchalantly crossing his legs, and motioned for Payne to join him. She did, but as she sat, she eyed the open door. “Fehr, could you close that for us.”

Fahrenheit followed his orders, but her body language made it was clear she was not in agreement with his course of action. She stayed in the room, standing in front of the now closed exit. The only exit.

Payne swallowed. She had never even though of divulging this information freely about herself. Choosing her words carefully, she began.

“Radiation really is a bitch, changing things, people, in a lot of different ways.” She pursed her lips and thought. “I don’t carry chems because they don’t work on me. At best, they are ineffective, but some cause worse effects than what they are supposed to treat.  My face looks like shit because I am extremely sensitive to the sun.” She motioned to her current condition as evidence. “I burn almost instantly if I get exposed. I can be extremely quick, but it takes a lot out of me. I couldn’t even try to run like I did at least for a day or two.” She stopped, it was obvious she didn’t want to go any further.

“MacCready thinks I am a cannibal, doesn’t he?”

Hancock nodded. MacCready had damn near fallen off bed with his insistence of that fact.

“He’s wrong. _I don’t eat people_.” Payne spat out the words with pure disgust. She slowly reached into her back and drew out two empty blood bags, red dregs still caught in the corners of the collapsed plastic, tossing them on the table before Hancock. “I _was_ badly hurt. I saw my chance to kill two birds with one stone, “she winced at her poor choice of words” so I took it. MacCready just happened to see me at a bad time.”

Everyone was still for a moment, the silence thundered in Payne’s ears.

“So,” started Hancock “You’re a… what did Kent call them, a vampire?” The word stung at Payne but Fahrenheit was clearly confused. “One of the Silver Shroud stories Kent goes on about… it involves these ruthless and cunning monsters that sleep during the day and feed on people’s blood at night. He called them ‘vampires’.” He turned to Payne.

“Yeah, well, you’re not the first one to call me a monster, but vampire? It’s been a while.” Though was very apt term, she thought. Even if they kicked her out of town or attacked her out right, she did feel a bit of relief telling someone.

“Well, sister, we all have our hang ups, me included. Chem addicted mayor and all that. You’ve had been in town for a while now and hadn’t attacked anyone you weren’t paid to. You even brought that pain-in-the-ass MacCready back. You didn’t have to. You could have left him for dead or… “ He stumbled for the right word. “eaten him?” His shrug and coy smirk were easy and relaxed, given the circumstances. “As long as you keep that track record, there is no reason for me to throw you out.”

Indifference was not the answer she expected. Payne was not sure how to reply. “What about MacCready. He pretty much hates my guts.”

“He’ll get over it. I might avoid him for a little while though. Especially if he gets drunk. He has a tendency to run his mouth.”

Payne rose to leave.

“You’re forgetting something.” Hancock tossed a bag of caps on the table before her. She scooped them up. “You still did the job. I’ll make sure Dr. Amari keeps some blood bags in stock.”

Payne shook her head. “Give’em to Daisy. I don’t do doctors.” With that, she left as Fahrenheit moved aside.

Watching her leave, Hancock turned to Fahrenheit and chuckled. “Glad I didn’t send her out to Pickman’s Gallery. Imagine what a shit show that would have been!? Better not tell her about that place, just in case they really hit it off. I don’t think downtown could handle that kind of… collaboration.”


	6. The Pin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting to know Kent.

[(Original Post)](https://antiquechampagne.tumblr.com/post/178026317945/chapter-6)

Payne kept to herself for nearly a week, rarely coming out of her room at hotel. She replaced her hunting rifle and an assault gas mask to replace to keep her safe during the day. It was ugly as sin and offered little in the way of actual armor, but it kept the sun off of her.  She was too ashamed to ask Daisy if she had any blood bags. She told herself she was keeping out of MacCready’s way, but really she just wanted to be alone. Payne wasn’t even sure if Hancock or Fahrenheit had told anyone about her, but she didn’t want to find out through awkward stares.

Boredom drove her from the confines of her rented room and down into the lobby. Walking down the stairs, she heard a snippet of a song drift from an ancient radio. Payne never paid much attention to what was on the air waves, given most seemed to be propaganda sprinkled with the same dozen songs, but the eerie jingle held her in rapt attention. Drawing her like a siren, she sat down close to the radio to listen. She couldn’t believe it, it was a prewar radio play!

The hotel manager, a grizzled white haired woman named Clair, noticed Payne’s fascination with exasperation. “Child, you’ve been here long enough to hear that pre-war drivel, haven’t you?”

Payne nodded to the contrary. “I haven’t heard anything like this in ages.” She couldn’t contain a small smile as she listened to the adventures of the titular character taking on the villain Fat Fahy with the heroine Mistress of Mystery.

“You look like a damn fool sitting there like a kid, just like Kent, I swear!” This was the second time Payne had heard that name.

“Who is Kent?” she forced herself away from the radio. It was harder than she had thought it should be.

“Kent? Kent Connolly runs that blasted station. He is nuttier than an irradiated Brahmin’s balls. If he’s not wasting all his time reliving that prewar super hero crap in a memory pod next door, he’s broadcasting those stupid stories. You gotta feel sorry for him, though. Irma had to put a timer on his pod to make sure the fool eats and sleeps. It’s a shame, he’s such a sweet guy… but addicted to his own past.”

Payne moved back to the couch near the radio, but a different kind of earworm had crept into her brain. The next day she found herself rummaging through her pack. In the bottom of her bag lay a small silver pin, rusted and discolored. You could still make out the silver band blazoned across the black fedora. She had taken off a settler she had found dead months ago. She wasn’t sure why it had captured her eye or why she had held on to the scrap for so long.

She made her way next door to Scollay Square. The marque loomed large like a grotesque maw, the red doors appearing almost mouth like. _Like the jaws of hell_ Payne though. Shaking her head, she pushed past the entrance and emerged on the other side facing an empty ticket counter. Continuing on, the place opened up to what had been a theater. Where seats once sat stood two rows of transparent pods along the sides, some occupied and pulsing with bizarre lights. On the stage sat a crimson chaise lounge with a reclining aging woman decked out in matching feathers and lace.

“Oh, sorry honey, we aren’t taking any new clients at the moment.” She purred.

 _God, this is more like home than I thought._ Payne approached the dais. “I’m not looking for your services. I am looking for Kent.”

“Whatever for?” Payne held up the pin. “Oh? I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Silver Shroud fan, sweetie.” She pointed to a closed door behind Payne. “He’s in his room, but please don’t vex him too much, hon. He’s been a bit…. sensitive… lately.”

Payne reassured her. “I will try my best to be brief.”

Upon entering Kent’s room, she was inundated with everything Silver Shroud including ancient cracked posters and imposing full size character cutouts. In the far corner sat a hunched figure in a threadbare hat and suit fiddling with a microphone.

A bit startled, Kent greeted Payne kindly. “Oh hi, I don’t know you.” His voice was kind and smooth, well, smooth for a ghoul.

“My name is Payne. You broadcast the Silver Shroud radio show, don’t you?”

Kent’s eyes lit up. “I sure do! I think it gives people a little bit of hope in this world that has gone to pot. Maybe a little escape from all the murder and mayhem, ya know?”

“I can tell you have a lot of passion for those old stories.”

“Oh yeah, they take ya right back… like remembering the first day of school and rushing home to listen to the conclusion of the cliff hanger for The Silver Shroud vs. The Grave Digger to see if the Mistress of Mystery was really dead or not! Oh man, everyone sat inside on a perfect cool summer afternoon just to hear that she had hidden herself in plain sight as the maid the whole time! What a hoot!”

His unbridled enthusiasm was infections and a warm smile spread across Payne’s face. “Well, I wanted to tell you that I am a new fan… and I wanted to show my appreciation.”

She handed the pin to Kent, who gingerly pick it out of her hand. His eye went wide and a wide smile of his own grew.

“Oh, my gosh! Miss! Do you know what this is?” He turn the tiny trinket repeatedly in his hand excitedly. “Where did you find this? How could it even survive this long?” Payne could feel the joy practically radiating off him.

“This…” He held the pin a loft like a lost holy relic. “This is a rare collectable lapel pin created by Galaxy News Radio to commemorate the 300th episode. You had to collect 20 Sugar Bomb cereal box tops and send way for it… but it was random which pin you received back.” Kent went to his dresser and pulled out a box from the drawer, his shoulders still hunched. “There were 25 pins to collect, which include The Unstoppables too because of the Christmas crossover episode! I have 11… now 12 of them! Thank you so much, Miss!” His fingers lovingly glided over each pin as he placed his newest prize into the next empty slot.

“Just call me Payne. I am glad I found one you didn’t already have!” she ribbed him gently. She found his child like enthusiasm endearing, but understood why the hotel manager was concerned about him. His clothes were dirty, his frame thin, even for a ghoul. He shuffled slowly as he walked.

“Would you mind if I visited you again in a few days? I would love to hear more about the Silver Shroud, I really don’t know much about it.”

“You’ve never heard of the Silver Shroud! Oh howdy, you are in for a real treat!”

They thanked each other and made plans for another visit. Payne wandered back to her room and sat down on the edge of the bed. It took a moment of searching her memories to place where her sudden melancholy from her delightful visit. Talking to Kent was like talking to her older brother over old Grognak comic books when they were kids… something they loved to do to pass the time together. She thought of her long dead brother, laid down hugging a pillow and silently cried herself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kent is just freaking adorable. I love his character!


	7. The Pitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Payne gets her first official job.

[(Original Post)](https://antiquechampagne.tumblr.com/post/178129340630/chapter-7)

About a week later, Payne was again sitting in the lobby listening to Kent’s broadcast when Hancock strolled into the Hotel Rexford and sauntered up to the desk. Clair gave him a wry greeting as a Hancock put a bottle of wine topped with a bow on the counter. Payne couldn’t really make out much of their conversation, but she noticed Clair hand over a bag of caps to Hancock. After a few minutes, Hancock tips his hat to Clair and walked over to where Payne was sitting, plopping down next to her.

“I heard you have been spending some time with Kent. You getting the tutored on all thing Silver Shroud lately!”

“Jealous?” chided Payne.

“Nah, more of a Mistress of Mystery fan myself, she’s much better eye candy than the Shroud. It’s kind of you to spend time with him. Most people smile politely, but they stop listening after a while.”

“He is certainly an eccentric, no doubt.  His enthusiasm for something, though… that idea that he can inspire justice and bring back integrity back to the world, it’s almost quaint.” Payne couldn’t help but to have a little smile as she spoke about Kent. His innocence was rare; Payne had thought it extinct like so many other things in the world.

“Well, thanks for giving him a reason to stay in this reality and not in his head. He needs that kind of motivation.” Hancock put a thumb up to his chin, as if getting an idea. “Since you seem to be staying in Goodneighbor for a minute, would you mind helping me with a little something?”

Payne appeared to mull it over. She was surprised Hancock would consider her for any more jobs, given she was a liability. “Sure.”

“I’ve got some more stops to make… taxes don’t collect themselves... but stop by later and I’ll fill you in.” With that, he rose to take his leave of her, but stopped himself. “You haven’t been by Daisy’s, have you?” Payne nodded ‘no’.  “Stop in before you come over. Don’t let her think you are avoiding her. She can get quite ornery if she thinks she is being snubbed. Besides, you are looking a bit pale these days.”

“Oh hey, Fred! What’cha got in stock today!” He moved on to the chem peddler across the room, leaving Payne on the couch.

Payne jaw slackened, taken aback by his forwardness but also embarrassed. Was her level of hunger really written all over her face like that? Had she been away from people for so long she forgot how much they saw? After Hancock finished making the rounds and left, she retired to her room. Peering into the dark and cracked mirror, she had to agree, she did look a bit lighter than she remembered. Peering into the dark and cracked mirror, she had to agree, she did look a bit lighter than she remembered. Luckily, she remember that Fred had a bag or two on him. When she made it to Daisy’s later that day, she didn’t feel nearly as self-conscious.

Once again, Payne found herself removing her helmet while walking up the spiral stair case and into Hancock’s office. This time he was half reclining on a sofa, eyes half closed and glazed and a weak smirk on his face.

“If you are busy with some official business, Mayor, I can come back later.” Payne tightened her lips.

“Naaa, stay. Fahr is out doing some recon for me. We can chat until she gets back.” He motioned to the adjacent couch and she sat.

Payne didn’t really want to chat, but felt compelled to stay. Not only was she in need of a job if she wanted to stay with a nice roof over her head, but that devilish smile seemed to draw her in.

“It’s a shame you are a teetotaler, I am more than happy to share.” He tapped a ropey finger on a box of Grape Mentats on the coffee table.

 _No wonder he is pouring on the charm._ Thought Payne. Being on the spot, she came up with the only topic of conversation she could think of. “So, what’s this job you have?”

“We’ll have time to talk business when Fahr gets back. I wanna get to know you a bit better. You seem to be the caliber of gal I try to attract to Goodneighbor, especially with how well you get along with Kent.  Strong, independent, capable.” He sat up and studied her. He understood now why she always covered every inch of skin, but did she always dress in head to toe in black? “So stimpaks and stuff really don’t do anything for you? I don’t think I could function without my own personal medicine cabinet.”

“That’s not exactly true. Stimpaks hardly do anything, but if there is nothing else around they might stop some bleeding. If I am lucky, most pharmaceuticals have no effects… some though… some are particularly nasty to my system.”

“If chems are off the menu, what do you do for fun? How do you let off steam?” Payne was starting to study him as well. What was he trying to get out of this conversation?

“I dance with deathclaws in the pale moonlight, what do you think I do? Alcohol works perfectly fine, even if I have a pretty high tolerance. Other than that… I don’t know. I haven’t really had a chance to relax in a while.” No matter how charming this bastard might be, she wasn’t going to tell Hancock how she felt when she fed.

 _Time to change the subject._ “Until I got here, I normally just seemed to wander around the wastes.”

“But you like it here in my town.” His grin was wide and toothy. “Why do you think it holds your attention? What makes her so special for you?”

 _Ah, this is it, his sweet spot is his ego._ Even though she thought better, she let him know the truth. “Goodneighbor feels like home, where I grew up. Something about the pinstripe suits and tommy guns, I guess.”

“And where would home be?”

“I’m from way out west; Vegas. New Vegas.”

“New Vegas. Tell me about it.”

Payne was now the one grinning. “I have a feeling you would love it there, Hancock. A city devoted to sin and vise. Lights, music, drugs, sex. The works. The casinos are all lit up at night and you can see them for miles, filled to the brim with gamblers and whores dancing for money. Damn, I miss it.” She looked away, her face betraying her homesickness.

“Why did you leave if you love it so much?” He sounded sincere, but that might have just been the Mentats speaking.

“It started to get really dangerous to be around, especially being alone. A raider named Caesar started to carve a bloody swath through the desert, either slaughtering or absorbing whole raider gangs, towns… everything in his way. The fucker brought whole-sale slavery, cruelty and bigotry to the parts of the Mojave under his heel. I can only hope the bastard is dead and his ‘empire’ burned to the ground, but I didn’t stick around.”

Hancock’s eyes narrowed, his displeasure palpable. “That sucks, I hate tyrants like that. Every one of them deserves to be put down. Hard.”

“I’d drink to that.”

“Oh fuck! Drinks!” Hancock popped up. “You want something?” He went to the bank of bottles on a makeshift bar against the wall.

“Whiskey, double. And it’s about time!” She cocked an eyebrow. “Who knows what I might have told you if you actually loosened me up first.”

Just as Hancock handed her the drink, Fahrenheit entered the room. She cast a smirk in Hancock’s direction.

“You want me to pour you one?” He passed the whiskey to Payne then picked up another shot glass.

“I don’t think we are going to have time for that, boss.”

“Well, shit!” He put the glass down, instead opting for taking a hearty swig directly from the bottle. “What did KLEO say?”

Fahrenheit glanced at Payne before continuing. “She says the vibrations she has picked up from Bobbi’s place are moving, south west.”

“South west? She planning on digging to Diamond City? Bobbi may be vindictive but I don’t think she would be stupid enough to try and take on all of Diamond City by herself.”

“KLEO said she has also seen that vault dweller and his dog about and Mel heading towards her place. You couldn’t have asked for a better door watcher. She keeps tabs on everyone.”

“Good thing she seems to like it here.” piped up Payne. “Why is this ‘Bobbi’ digging around such a problem?”

Hancock waved a hand in the air. “Other than she might end up collapsing part of Goodneighbor playing miner? She could also be digging a hole under our walls to let some bad elements in, which is a possibility. I don’t think the Institute would do this… never heard of them replacing a ghoul and this isn’t their style.”

Payne’s brow furrowed. “But why? Do you think she is getting paid off or something?”

“She seems to have a stick up her ass when it comes to Hancock. She resents him for some reason, even though she’s lived pretty much peacefully for years.” answered Fahrenheit. “At least that is what Charley has heard when she gets a little chatty at the bar.”

“Goodneighbor’s storehouse is out that way, too.” Mulled Hancock. “Okay, here is what we are going to do. Fahr, take Payne and a few other guys to the storehouse. If Bobbi ends up there, take care of things. If she is digging to Diamond City or some other place, then it’s not our problem.”

Fahrenheit nodded and left, probably to get the others around.

Hancock turned to Payne. “Think of this like a trial run, a working interview of sorts. I need to see if you can work well with my gang. I am looking for more help around here. If you all can get along, I could make this a more permanent position.”

Payne was taken a bit aback. “What about all these guards around? You could pick any of them?”

“A lot of my guys are good, but you, so far, have out classed them and seem to be capable of handling yourself out in the wastes from what I gather. I need a person to watch my back when I feel the need to wander myself.”

“What about Fahrenheit? What’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing. Fahr is more of a home body. I trust her to stay here and looks after things when I head out of town. Are you interested in spending a lot more time with all of this?” Payne could hardly stop herself from rolling her eyes as he grandiosely spread is arms wide, his cheeky grin spread wide against his skeletal features.

“With a sales pitch like that, how can I say ‘no’?”


	8. Dig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking care of Bobbi.

[(Original Post)](https://antiquechampagne.tumblr.com/post/178264145535/chapter-8)

The next day Payne found herself traveling through the ruins of Boston with Fahrenheit and another triggerman from Goodneighbor named Ted. Payne studied Fahrenheit. She was striking in her own way. You could tell she was a cold hard killer, ruthless and efficient. Her gigantic mini gun and scarred visage creating an intimidating silhouette, but the way in which she picked her way through the city denoted a talent for combat and strategy. They walked in silence for a while before Payne piped up.

“So, what exactly are we doing here? What does Hancock expect from this ‘interview’?”

“Hancock thinks you have what it takes to keep up with him, but he needs to know if he can trust you. He can be reckless at times, throwing himself into situations which cooler heads would avoid. You need to have a level head to deal with him. He needs to know that you can think on your feet. It also helps that you don’t seem to be put off by ghouls.”

“You both know my _situation_ , and Hancock is still willing to give me a chance?” Payne was supremely skeptical, her history was a testament to the near guttural revulsion against what she was.

“Goodneighbor has always been a haven for everyone the world seems to shit on. Even before the ghouls were exiled from Diamond City, Hancock has always cared about the defeated and forgotten. Junkies, ghouls, freaks… whatever. If you aren’t welcome elsewhere, you are welcome in Goodneighbor and Hancock will take care of you… as long as you play by the rules.”

They ducked through a small side street to avoid a super mutant nest. Spray painted diamonds started to appear periodically on buildings, arrows pointing towards the looming stadium.

“And what are those rules?”

“One: Don’t pick on people who are weaker than you. Two: Don’t cross the Mayor.”

Payne nodded. Hancock didn’t beat around the bush. “I haven’t been to Diamond City.”

“Don’t waste your time. Sure, they have the best defensive position in the Commonwealth with that wall, but you have to deal with a nest full of vipers that will use any excuse to throw you to the yao guai. Part of me hopes Bobbi is digging under that cesspit and is going to blow it sky high.” Fahr frowned. “That’s not her style though. Take a right here.” She motioned with her hand.

Payne took point while Fahrenheit entered the password into the terminal. The inside was undisturbed. The structure was tall and open, containing ancient railroad tracks along with several rail cars. A second story catwalk followed the perimeter and cut across the lofty ceiling.

Fahrenheit turned to Payne. “Quiz time. How would you defend the storehouse?”

Payne paced a quick circle, surveying the area, before turning back to face Fahrenheit. “Position the two of you up on the catwalk. There is little cover, but you will have the high ground and can easily hit any point they might enter without worrying the floor could collapse. If they feel like talking, looking down on your enemy gives you a psychological advantage.” Payne walked over to the railcar. “You’ll also be drawing their attention away from me. I’ll make myself a little sniper nest up there using those bags of cement, picking off anyone who has a gun in their hands.”

Payne could see Fahr mulling over her plan, no doubt disliking the exposed position for her and Ted but her gun wasn’t nearly as good at raining down death as either a tommy or mini gun. She would be most effective if they never saw her and she could strike with precision.

Fahrenheit gave a single nod. “Get it done.” She headed up to the catwalk, leaving Ted and Payne to hoist bags onto the railcar’s roof. Given the number of bags, Payne stacked them so that she would have cover from the most likely direction they would bust through the floor but also cover the basement door. In a pinch, she could scramble down and fight if they flanked her.

Once they were finished, all they had to do was wait. Ted pulled out a ragged deck of cards.

“Do you know how to play?” asked Ted. Fahrenheit waved him off, not wanting to waste time with it.

“You must not know where I am from. You know anything about poker?” A devilish smile spreading on Payne’s lips as she grabbed a couple of rusted chairs and a box for a makeshift poker table. They chatted as they played.

“Have you been to Diamond City?” Inquired Payne. Ted nodded. “What do you think?”

“Big, full of people... but they’re jumpy. They’re scared shitless over who might be a synth. Hancock used to live there, ya know?”

Payne cocked an eyebrow. “I thought ghouls weren’t allowed in Diamond City.”

“Oh, Hancock wasn’t a ghoul back then. He grew up there. He fought to try and stop it, but…” Ted shrugged.

Payne stewed on this new fact as she soundly trounced Ted for a few hands. Hancock seemed so confident for someone newly ghoulified. To undergo such a change normally takes decades to recover from, if a person recovers at all. The bastard was either tougher than an enraged cazador or off his rocker.

Payne felt it before she heard it. Faint vibrations were telegraphing through the concrete floor, and they were getting stronger. She motioned to the floor.

“We need to get ready.” Fahrenheit felt the floor and concentrated before nodding. They all headed up to their respective posts, waiting.

They didn’t have to wait long. A muffled explosion soon reached their ears.

“Sounds like they hit the basement. Cover the door.” Fahrenheit shot back to her.

After a few minutes, four dusty figures and a dog carefully pushed open the now unlocked basement door.

“Bobbi, what are you doing here?” commanded Fahrenheit. Payne could just imagine how imposing she looked above them with her giant mini gun ready in her hands. The ghoul with short bobbed hair swore under her breath. She must be Bobbi, Payne surmised. She also saw Nate, the vault dweller and his dog. A lanky man with ginger hair hung back behind the others with a muscular woman wearing a dark rust colored corset.

“You seriously didn’t think Hancock wouldn’t figure out this scheme of yours? He took you in and now you are stealing from him, Bobbi?”

The rest of Bobbi’s crew looked around confused. Bobbi tried to assuage them, but it didn’t work. It was obvious that they had no idea where they were actually breaking into. Seeing her tactic failing, she tried to appeal to their baser needs by sweetening the deal with more caps. That seemed to be an even harder sell.

The ginger in the back, apparently named Mel, piped up. “This is Hancock we are ripping off here. The guy tends to hold grudges!”

Seeing an opportunity among the bickering, Fahrenheit coolly added a counter offer where the gaggle of would be thieves could just go back down their tunnel and all would be forgiven… or so she said. Payne had some reservations about tactic, but decided to see how this played out.

“You lied to us, Bobbi! Why did you do this?” Nate was incensed. The other woman stepped forward, cracking her knuckles. Payne got the idea that she didn’t care who they started beating on, but was just waiting for this powder keg to go off.

“Back off, girlfriend.” Bobbi sneered. “I knew no one in their right mind would want to help me pinch as much as a stick of gum from Hancock. Everyone is so damn afraid of him or so damn in love with him.”

 _Ahh, there it is._ Thought Payne. _Resentment and envy_.

“He thinks he’s untouchable just because he is surrounded by a bunch of ass kissers. I had to show him that he wasn’t.” A low growl came from Dogmeat.

Nate tried to reason with her. “Bobbi, stop this. If we leave now, we can leave with our lives. It isn’t worth it.”

“I’ll be damned if I come this far and then leave with my tail between my legs.” As Bobbi started to raise her gun, the back of her head exploded. She toppled forward, landing with a thud at Nate’s feet. Everyone on the ground froze.

“Negotiations are closed.” They watched as Mel solemnly turned and left. As Nate and the others started to leave, Fahrenheit made her way down the stairs to them.

“You made the right choice.” She said to Nate between drags on her cigarette. “Though, I can see I wasn’t the only one itching for a fight.” She smirked in the other woman’s direction.

“How did you know we would be breaking in here?”

Payne, who had extricated herself from her snipers next, spoke as she walked down the stairs to the ground floor, flanked by Ted. “Blasting away thousands of pounds of dirt isn’t exactly silent.”

“Plus,” Fahrenheit added “Hancock knows about everything that goes down in his territory. You should really stop by and apologize some time.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.” Nate nodded and took his leave, his companions trailing behind him.

Payne had made her way next to Fahrenheit. “At least he has some armor over that stupid vault suit now.”

“He still looks like an ass hat.” She spat.

“Very true.” Agreed Payne.


	9. Seeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kicking it around town mostly.

[(Original Post)](https://antiquechampagne.tumblr.com/post/178312242160/chapter-9)

The walk back to Goodneighbor was uneventful and mostly silent. Payne stood behind Fahrenheit while she debriefed the mission to Hancock. Hancock sat unmoving, his jaw set. He seemed to be chewing over Bobbi and her animosity towards him.

“Damn it, Bobbi.” He said under his breath.

“There wasn’t much choice, Hancock.” Fahrenheit stated mater-of-factly.

Hancock waved his hand. “I know that. It just sucks. Yeah, she was a scheming bitch, but she came from Goodneighbor like a lot of us. She was tough and could get dirty with the best of ’em.” Payne could tell something else was bothering Hancock, but he wasn’t saying. “What about her?”

“She came up with the sniper nest idea and she made the right call about Bobbi. We gave them all an out, Bobbi just wasn’t going to take it.”

“Well, I guess there was one good thing to come out of this cluster fuck.” He fished a bag of caps out of his coat pocket and tossed it to Payne, who easily caught it. As she glanced down, he quickly fished something out from behind the couch.

“The caps are for a job well done. This…” He put down a freshly painted black synth helmet deftly on the coffee table. “This is a signing bonus if you decide you can stand to be around my ugly mug every day.”

Payne walked over and picked up the helmet. “As long as you don’t start chanting ‘One of us’ over and over, I think I can handle it.”

Hancock had her working long and hard the first couple of weeks, both shadowing Fahrenheit and doing odd jobs around town. Granted a lot of it was standing around looking tough, but it was still a lot of time on her feet. Once she had to help Hancock down from a small jet bender, which was not an easy task. Payne came to realize that taking care of her boss was going to take on a lot of different meanings. She barely had time to visit Kent and she was worried he thought she had forgotten about him. One night, ragged after a long 12 hour day, she made sure to stop by and make plans for the next day. Hancock had given her a day off and she wanted to relax.

Kent was more than happy to oblige, eager to again share his expansive knowledge of the Silver Shroud, The Unstoppables and generally everything super hero related to Payne. Most people just ignored his ramblings, but Payne was curious and engaging and he appreciated the interest she had. He had grown to look forward to Payne’s visits. She sat and patiently listened as they took walks, ate lunch and generally palled around town…, which gave Kent a reason to stay out of his personal memory lounger and in the real world. They both missed the routine they had had before Hancock had taken so much of Payne’s time.

This time, when she visited Kent, she found someone else in his room. The vault dweller was there along with the muscular woman from the storehouse heist.

“Hey Payne! You won’t believe it!” Kent’s voice buzzed with excitement, his red framed blue eyes blazed. He had been working on creating a fully functional silver submachine gun modeled after the Shroud’s for weeks. Payne had been helping out where she could, even with her extra work load. She figured he had finally finished.

“This guy, Nate, said he would do it!”

“Do what, Kent?”

“Go to the old Hubris Comics building and get the honest to goodness Silver Shroud costume herself! We’re going to bring justice back to the Commonwealth!” He was giddy with excitement.

“What?” Payne was floored. “You never told me about this!”

“Well, the idea hadn’t really formed until this morning while I was listening to Episode 138. Ya know, the one where the Silver Shroud infiltrates the Black Bart Gang to find Manta Man’s missing armor?”

Payne looked at Nate skeptically. “Cait and I can do this. I promise.” He sounded sincere. Payne looked at Cait and was not impressed. She didn’t want Kent to get his hopes dashed by this greenhorn vault boy and she didn’t have time to babysit him either, not with her new responsibilities.

“You screw this up, you are answering to me.”

Cait stepped up and started to open her mouth but Nate held up a hand. “I keep my promises.”

“It’ll be alright, Payne.” Kent nervously said, the tension in the room was getting to him.

Payne relaxed and reclined on a narrow couch. “Everything’s fine, Kent. We have an understanding now. So… tell me what the lineup for episodes is for the rest of the week… I am so behind!”

They all stayed and chatted for a while longer, Cait hanging back and bored. On her way out, Irma waved her down.

“Kent’s really missed your little visits, hun. I guess Hancock is running you ragged.”

“You got that right.”

“Did you know about the big party next week?” Payne shook her head no, no one had told her anything… but maybe that is why Hancock had her moving so much stock into The Third Rail. “Hancock throws a huge celebration on the anniversary of him becoming mayor each year. Everyone has a blast, free booze, chems, music. No one has to work, well Charley does, but of course he does. I’ve been trying to get Kent to go for years.”

Payne could see where this was going. “You want me to try get him out and have some fun.”

“I think you could be the gal to do it. He enjoys your company so much.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

The next day, Payne broached the subject and was gently rebuffed with an excuse involving maintenance for the stations broadcasting equipment. The next time it was checking his audio logs. He was going to be a hard nut to crack.

She vented her frustration while browsing at Daisy’s shop a few days later.

“I just don’t know how to get him to come out of his room, Daisy. It’s like he is glued to his chair.”

“Yeah.” Daisy agreed with her raspy voice. “But he’s always been like that, well, at least since he got hooked on those memory loungers.” Payne started picking through her selection of clothes, pausing here and there to get a better look. “I am starting to think he is only going to get the nerve to come to the party is the damn Silver Shroud shows up at his door and drags him out.”

Payne stopped, a crafty smirk slowly spreading across her face. “I think I have an idea, but I am probably going to need some help.” Her brown eyes twinkled mischievously at Daisy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short update, but I am super excited for the next bit coming up!


	10. Getting out of the House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's get this party started!

[(Original Post)](https://antiquechampagne.tumblr.com/post/178449930155/chapter-10)

Payne worked with Daisy in her free moments. She found it encouraging to have someone working with her, especially in moments when she lost faith that what they were doing was going to work. Eventually, they even conscripted Irma into their ranks once she caught wind of what their scheme.

“This is never going to work.” Payne looked at herself in the cracked mirror. It was fitting that they were back stage at the Memory Den, given how big of a flop this was going to be. “He’s going to think I am making fun of him.” Payne stared down at her slinky black dress. She felt like a fool.

“You just have a touch of stage fright, love.” Cooed Irma. Daisy was sewing the last few stitches into the ruffled while collar that framed the plunging neck line.

 _Thank God this party is at night_ Payne thought to herself.  Not only was the neckline revealing, but a lot of her arms and legs were exposed.

“Sit down, we need to get your makeup on before the veil.” Apparently Irma and Daisy had differing opinions on what would be the right kind of makeup, as they bickered and fussed over every inch of Payne’s face. Payne wondered why it was such a big deal… most of it would be hidden anyway.

Once they were both mostly satisfied, they turned Payne to the mirror again. Gazing back at her framed in rolling black locks was a face she barely recognized. Seeing herself brought a flood of feelings that threatened to overwhelm her. She pushed them back. Irma and Daisy, seeing her expression, both put a comforting hand on each of her shoulders.

Shaking her nerves and memories away, Payne stood up. “Now for the final touches, right?” Within moments, the look was complete. Again, they all studied Payne. Payne stared back at her foreign reflection. Something was missing. After a moment’s consideration, she walked over an old foot locker. She riffled through her clothes and equipment.  Pulling out her combat knife and a thin leather belt, she fashioned a holster, securing it high up on her thigh.

“Now we’re done.” She proudly proclaimed.

Irma rapped gently on Kent’s door. “Someone is here to pick you up for the party, Kent…”

“Irma, I told you and Payne that I am busy tonight. You guys go and have fun without me. I’ll be fine…” He opened the door, his eyes scanning the labels of the holotapes in his other hand. “I have to pick which epi...” His voice trailed off as his eyes finally ventured outside his room. Kent stood gobsmacked, his mouth gaping. The Mistress of Mystery stood before him in the flesh, complete with elbow length opera gloves, a sparkling black gown trimmed with a stunning white ruffle and black high heels. Payne’s black hair formed two gentle waves on either side of her face, half which was coyly concealed behind a delicate lacey black veil.

“Kent Connolly, may I kindly inquire that you make my acquaintance and accompany me to Mayor Hancock’s commemorative occasion?”

Kent’s jaw attempted to form words, but only succeeded in flapping like a fish pulled up into the bright morning air. His brain seemed to be having trouble reconciling both Payne and The Mistress of Mystery standing before him.

“Please?” The longer that Kent stood there in silence, the dread that this idea was doomed to fail grew.

“Of course!” Kent stammered at last. Payne let out an internal sigh of relief. She offered her arm and Kent gleefully took it.

“You don’t have to stay long or anything, I just want you to get out and have a little fun.” Payne whispered. Kent gave her arm a gentle affectionate squeeze in thanks.

Walking through the dark streets, Payne noticed there were only a few Neighborhood Watch out. She caught Ted’s attention walking past.

“Decided to work tonight?”

“Yeah, the boss gives us a nice bit of compensation if we pick up a shift during his annual bash.” He tapped on the box of Grape Mentats in his lapel pocket.

“Don’t get through the whole box in one night!” she ribbed.

Ted tipped his hat and continued on his patrol. “You take good care of her, Kent. She’s one dangerous date!”

Heading down to the escalator, they saw the bar bursting at the seams with people. Payne wasn’t even sure that there were even this many people in Goodneighbor. She caught faces turning to face them as they walked. Payne now felt over dressed, but this was her part for the evening for as long as Kent would stay, so she didn’t mind the extra attention. Hancock’s red coat caught her eye as he darted in and around people, schmoozing and charming the guests.

They walked to a free small table in the corner.

“I’ll get us a little something to drink. What would you like?”

Payne was surprised that Kent volunteered. “I’m fine with anything, but ask for a clean drink. It wouldn’t surprise me if there were a few specials going around with chems mixed in.” Kent nodded and headed to the bar in the sea of people. She could see him getting ‘atta boys’ from some of the other patrons as he passed.

“So, there is a body under all that leather!” Hancock’s raspy voice teased as he grabbed a nearby chair, turning it backwards as he sat down. “And you managed the impossible! I really shouldn’t underestimate you.” Hancock elbowed her arm playfully.

“Yeah, my womanly wiles are just too strong!” She turned a bit more serious, “I’m just glad he didn’t slam the door in my face. I don’t want him to think I am teasing him or making fun.” Kent returned with a pair of Nuka-Colas. Payne should have known he would be a bit of a teetotaler. She graciously accepted her drink while she snickered inside.

Hancock turned to Kent. “Who knew all it took was a pair of long legs and pretty eyes to get you out, Kent!”

“One can’t refuse the Mistress, Hancock!” Kent was faster on his feet than Payne had thought.

“I’ll keep that in mind, _Mistress_.” Payne rolled her eyes as this innuendo.

Irma and Daisy made their way to the growingly inadequate table.

“I bet you didn’t know that Daisy was a seamstress in another life!” Payne boasted.

“Hardly… I had a sewing machine growing up. I mended things… but nothing like this Frankenstein of a dress! I bet you can’t tell it is actually three dresses sewn together (it was freaking impossible to find a prewar dress with the length we needed), plus a clean pillow case for the ruffle thing! Oh, and those glove… guess what they are!”

Payne put her hands out so they all could stroke her opera gloves. “Guess!” she egged on.

Hancock and Kent were baffled. “Those are made from a half a dozen old black t-shirts! We used Payne’s regular gloves as makeshift patterns. Luckily the old knit fabric has a lot of stretch… because man, if used correctly that can cover a lot of sins!” Daisy was rightly proud of her work.

“What did you do?” Hancock nodded to Irma.

“I did hair and makeup, naturally. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get the right product get those waves to stay put? Damn near impossible. I hope they just last an hour down here with all the heat.” Payne nodded her head. She had no idea what Irma had used, and she was afraid to ask. She just hoped it didn’t make all her hair fall out by the end of the night. “I also found the lace for her veil.”

Payne picked up the thread. “I mostly dreamed up the scheme. I felt bad that Kent might be missing out again on such a great party, so I hope he doesn’t mind too much.” Kent gave an embarrassed ‘no’. “And I helped where I could. I am nowhere near the wizard with a sewing needle that Daisy is, but I worked on a fair bit of it.”

“I think you look lovely.” Kent said.

“Me too, buddy. I could get used to that view.” Hancock added.

“Put a hand on my ass, and you are going to lose a finger!” Payne playfully drew up her skirt to reveal her knife nestled against her leg.

“Hey,” Payne said. “You guys want something? I’m just about done with my Nuka-Cola.” Kent was still nursing his soda, so she took an order from the other three and headed up to the bar.

Charley was absolutely swamped, his three arms whizzing through the space behind the bar. After a few minutes, he finally turned his attention to Payne.

“The boss got you doing double duty tonight?” Payne asked.

“More like triple! Glad there is an open bar only once a year, or he’d better get me another arm! Whatcha getting?”

“A beer, a bourbon and a triple shot of whiskey.” Charley grunted and hurried away. With all the bodies moving in and around the bar, Payne barely registered a man sitting down next to her before he leaned in close to her.

“I know whaat yur doing…” his words slurred together.

Payne looked at him with a side glance. “I’m getting some drinks.” She tried to ignore him.

“No!, I can see through you, phony. Don’t you think you can fool me.”

“It’s the costume, isn’t it. Damn, you got me! I’m not really a comic book character.” She really shouldn’t be engaging this asshole, but he was really getting on her nerves.

“Fuck you! Fahr’s my friend and I don’t let anyone treat her like shit! You’re trying to replace her, weasel into Hancock’s good graces, you pathetic faker! You ghoul fucker!” A few people close by were now taking notice and either moving away or trying to get a better view.

Payne had had enough of this drunkard. Slowly and deliberately she turned to face him, stone faced. As she spoke, the hand further from him moved to her thigh.

“Let me get this straight. You are accosting a person who has traveled from the far west by herself, a trip that can take years, through every kind of hell inspired wasteland filled with monsters you could barely think up in your wildest dreams, who is then hired by the most powerful man in Goodneighbor as one of his two personal bodyguards….“ With a powerful slam, Payne embedded her knife in the bar right in front of the man, the blade penetrating an inch into the ancient wood. He jumped back on his stool, nearly falling. “ _Or_ ….you are insulting a person who has gained control of most powerful man in Goodneighbor by his cock.” Payne inched closer. “It seems neither of these kinds of people would be smart to piss off, especially at Hancock’s own party.”

The man was quickly surrounded by a few more party goers. As they issued weak apologies, they roughly guided him away, chastising and admonishing him as soon as they were out of earshot.

Charley returned with Payne’s drinks. “Nice theatrics, but what about my fucking bar?”

“I’ll fix it this week some time. Sorry.” She pulled the knife out. While she was glad she had ended that without a fight, it still left her a little uneasy.

Returning to her table, everyone was laughing, even Kent. Hancock nearly double over.

“I guess you guys heard the whole thing?”

“Everyone in Diamond City heard the damn thing!” Hancock roared and slapped her goodheartedly on the back. Payne’s mood finally lightened and she eased into a good chuckle herself. “And everyone knows, if you are going to go ghoul fucking, you might as well start with the finest one!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My proofreader was extremely sick when they tried to go through this for me. They did their best, but if you find anything, please let me know!


	11. Party Animals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party really get going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have broken this chapter up into parts for my Tumblr, so I will be editing this chapter to add more until it is done. Not the most elegant solution, but the best one I could figure out.

**PART 1**

[(Original Post)](https://antiquechampagne.tumblr.com/post/178527746355/chapter-11)

Hancock soon started flitting around the room as the rest chatted over their drinks. While listening, something in the corner of her eye caught Payne’s attention. Nate had just become visible on the escalator with Cait in tow. Payne quickly looked at Kent. He had not yet noticed. Grabbing Daisy, she swiftly told her to keep Kent distracted. She had another plan.

Payne quickly excused herself to use the restroom and wove through the crowd towards the escalator. As she reached Nate, she gently took his arm, using her body to shield him from Kent below, just in case.

“Did you find the costume?” Payne hastily asked.

“Um… yes… what are you doing? Why are you dressed up like that? Ow!” Nate was finding himself being only semi-gently guided back up the stairs.

“I have an idea, just come with me and I’ll tell you.”

Cait was definitely not on board with this idea. “What the fuck are you trying to pull, lassie?”

“I’m not trying to pull anything, I’m trying to do something nice for Kent!”

“We had to slug our way through a whole building full of ferals to get that damn thing, you aren’t nicking it!” Cait was starting to get heated.

“It’s okay.” Nate finally resigned to being dragged back up to the entry way. “What do you want?”

“Okay, you saw how I am dressed, right? You know who I am supposed to look like, right?” Nate nodded his head. “This was the only way to get Kent to come to this party. He would be more than happy to never venture out of the Memory Den, but this has helped him step outside his comfort zone. Now, you arrive, with the actual Silver Shroud costume… this is going to blow his fucking mind… but do you know what would make this night better? If he saw the Silver Shroud AND the Mistress of Mystery coming down those steps hand in hand. Just imagine the look on his face!?” Anticipating Cait’s reaction she quickly added “And don’t worry, I’m not stealing your boyfriend.”

“Damn straight, you’re not or you are going to end up with a lot fewer teeth tomorrow morning!”

Nate wasn’t looking convinced. Kent had commissioned him to find the costume, not wear it. It was rightfully Kent’s property.

“I’m not saying you keep the costume, just surprise him with it. You can give it to him after the party. Whaddya say?”

Nate hemmed and hawed for a minute before agreeing. He quickly changed in the bathroom and stepped out.

Cait was impressed and expressed her pleasure with smirk and a head nod. Nate’s broad frame filled out the black trench coat. The silver scarf along with the black fedora framed his face as if it was tailor made for him.

“Nearly perfect… but do you have any water on you?”

Nate was confused. “Um… why?”

“We need to slick your hair back a little and unless you want me to use irradiated toilet water…”

Cait started rifling through her bag. “Here.” Payne quickly passed her fingers through Nate’s thick dark hair, elegantly swooping it back.

Payne stepped back and grinned. “There we go… just like the comics!”

“I feel like an idiot.”

“You look better than when you wear that stupid vault suit. Now, come on. I told Kent I was just going to the bathroom… I don’t want have him come up here looking for me. Just remember, we are doing this for him.”

They headed down the stationary escalator, Nate placing his hand gently on her hip. This time, even more people turned to see the curious sight.

Kent was talking with another ghoul when they pointed towards the stairs. Payne grinned when she saw his shocked expression. She proud of this night he would not soon forget.

Nate leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Everyone is looking at us.”

“Of course they are! Now just try to remember who you are supposed to be acting like.”

Nate seemed to take that advice to heart. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, an upbeat tune started on the radio. He leaned over again. “Do you know how to dance?”

Payne, taken off guard, quickly answered, “If you can lead.”

Nate took her hand and led her to a small clearing in the middle of the bar. Nate started simple and guided her through the music. People, not used to seeing old world dancing, naturally cleared the dance floor, opening up a wide space for the two of them to float and bob around. Finding Nate a natural leader, Payne quickly fell into a spirited and happy rhythm.

Daisy, who had been talking to Ham, elbowed him in the ribs. “Holy shit, Ham… they’re doing the lindy hop! You remember that?”

Nate started to swing her out in great flourishes, her dress splaying and billowing playfully around her legs. Payne’s face could hardly contain her smile behind the swishing black veil. Patrons started to clap and whoop along with the dancers.

As the song neared its ending climax, Nate pulled her in close and whispered. “Big finale?”

“Hell yeah”

Nate spun her back and forth in a grand arc then when Payne returned to her side, he flipped her head over heels. While quickly bowing to the spirited ovation, Payne spotted Kent. He grinning and clapping louder than anyone. She pulled Nate in and whispered a grateful thank you into his ear. He clapped a hand heartily on her arm before taking his leave. Payne turned back to Kent.

“May I have the next dance… though it I can’t do much more than sway in a circle.” Payne smiled and nodded, following him to the floor. Thankfully, the next song was much slower, more fitting to Kent’s pace and personality. Kent gingerly put his hands on Payne’s waist while Payne casually placed hers around the back of his neck.

“Thank you for not being mad at me for all this.” Payne confessed. “The last thing I wanted was for you to think I was mocking you or something. I really hope you are having a good time.”

“I am! Having a good time, I mean. Sorry I was so bull headed about coming. Parties aren’t normally my thing.” Kent shrugged sheepishly. “I’m more of a quiet home body, if you haven’t guessed.”

“You are more than that! You are so full of hope and optimism, even after all these centuries. That is a rare feat. You could even inspire others to make the world a better place.”

“Oh, now you _are_ making fun of me!” Kent ribbed.

“I’m serious! People listen to your shows, hearing stories that inspire them to go out and maybe make a change.”

“Is that why you come by to listen? To get inspired?”

“Me?” Payne had to be honest. “Not really. You… you remind me of someone.” Her hand instinctually caressed a bottle cap suspended on a metal chair necklace. The dim glow of the faint blue star caught Kent’s attention.

“Now, I’m pretty sure that isn’t canon for the Mistress of Mystery official costume.” Payne’s expression soured slightly. “Who do I remind you of?”

Payne looked down, pursed her lips and tucked the necklace back under the white ruffle of her dress. “My brother. You remind me a lot of my older brother. When we were kids, we didn’t have a whole lot in common but we were voracious comic fans. He was always so positive he could help change the world for the better, probably because of all those stories filling his head. I miss him.” She swallowed, both the stem the pain and to stop the memories from flooding her mind. “Talking to you is like talking to him, in a way.”

Kent gently removed Payne’s hands from around his neck and held them tenderly in his own. “You have an old soul, you know?”

“I’ve heard that before.” They shared a friendly embrace.

“Memories are a hard thing to shake, aren’t they? Thank you for giving me some new ones to hold dear with the old.” Kent lightly squeezed her.

Payne squeezed back. “You too, my friend.” She leaned forward, lifted her veil and kissed Kent on the forehead. “I think it is about time you go get all the juicy details on the Shroud’s latest escapades straight from the man himself. I’m sure the suspense is killing you!” Kent smiled and wandered off to find Nate.

Needing to catch her breath, Payne retired to the VIP room. She hoped it might be a little cooler and quieter away from the bustle of the party.

 

**PART 2**

[(Original Post)](https://antiquechampagne.tumblr.com/post/178664923520/chapter-11-part-2)

The VIP room was a few degrees cooler than the bar, but the presence of MacCready made up for the temperature with awkwardness. He sat in the far corner chatting with a bald drifter in dark glasses, smoking a cigarette and casting eye daggers her way. Payne did her best to ignore him. She lifted her hair off her neck and shoulders in an attempt to cool off.

A little while later, Hancock wandered in, a bottle of vodka dangling from his desiccated fingers. “You’re about to lose your date to the Silver Shroud if you aren’t careful. Kent looks like he is about to take an upgrade home.”

Payne rolled her eyes. “Get your mind out of the gutter.” Payne left to say her good byes to Kent and Nate. She could see Kent was tired and wished him a good night. She trusted Nate to see him safely home.

When Payne returned, Hancock had reclined on the sofa; his eyes glassy. A Jet canister danced between his fingers as he flipped it deftly. It reminded Payne of gamblers who would walk chips up and down their fingers.

“Flying high, Peter Pan?” She sat down on the opposite end of the couch.

“It’s a shame you can’t do chems. You are missing out. Wait… Peter Pan?” He said dreamily.

“Never mind.” She dismissed his with a wave of her hand. “Now that Kent’s gone, I don’t need this anymore.” She removed her veil, and after a moment’s thought, used it to secure her hair up in a bun. She then stripped off her gloves. Payne sighed as she could feel herself cooling off immediately.

“So stimpaks don’t really work on you… what about Jet? What does that do?”

“Jet just burns and I start coughing up chunks of lung. Now this:” Payne picked up the bottle of vodka. “This still works just fine even if I have to drink twice as much.” She took a few hearty swallows. Hancock, while spaced out, had a pensive look on his face.

“You still stuck on Bobbi?” Payne thought of the past few weeks, riding out Hancock’s highs and lows. He hadn’t really talked about it much.

“No… and yes. Kinda?” He tipped his head back. Payne watched as the leathery skin of his neck stretch tight against his Adam’s apple. “I’m more worried that I am losing touch with the people, you hear me?” Payne wasn’t exactly sure, everyone in Goodneighbor seemed to be on the same page.

“Why do you say that?” Jet made Hancock chatty sometimes, you just had to watch that where he went wasn’t too dark or you would run into problems.

“We are all equal here, anyone should feel free to come up and tell me shit to my face. Walk right up and spill it if they have a problem with the way I am handling things here., but Bobbi, she had to go behind my back and try to steal from me… why?” Payne just shrugged, just letting him ramble. “It’s because they think I am out of touch… not one of them anymore.” He straightened up. “Some asshole in an ivory tower. I need to get out and get dirty again! I need to show everyone that I am not all talk!”

Payne patted his knee. “Not tonight, you have a party to enjoy. Cowboy up tomorrow.” He relaxed again, but Payne could see the gears turning in his head. He wasn’t going to let that thought go.

Payne’s eyes wandered around the room as she downed more vodka, lingering on strange patterns on the water stained walls. She was starting to feel the warmth of the drinks pile up in her body, loosening her up. Her ears picked up the clumsy plinking of a guitar out in the other room. It made her grimace unconsciously.

Hancock picked up on the sour look. “You have a thing for music as well as dancing? What other tricks do you have in your black bag that we can see tonight?”

“They could have at least tuned the guitar right… it sounds awful, whatever they are trying to play.”

Hancock slipped off the couch. Before Payne could voice her objection, he waved her off with a flick of his hand. “Prove to me that you can play better.” The alcohol must have slowed her down more than she realized, because he left the room before Payne could formulate a reaction.

 _Damn it!_  Payne thought to herself. She hadn’t touched a guitar in years… let alone played in front of anyone.  _Shit!_

Hancock soon returned with what Payne assumed was someone’s attempt at a guitar shaped instrument. It appeared to be more duct tape than anything else. He handed it to her with a mischevious grin spread across his face.

Payne took another swig and started tuning. Her focus concentrated on forcing a desirable sound out of the amalgam of a stringed instrument, she didn’t notice Hancock signaling people quietly into the room. By the time she looked up, a mosaic of faces stared back at her. Her brain quickly recognized Magnolia, Daisy, Ham and Irma along with many other residents.

Throwing a deadly gaze in Hancock’s direction, she mouthed  _FUCK YOU_.

His grin grew even wider. “Stand and deliver, babe.” Payne’s middle finger made a quick appearance before she strummed a B minor chord. It actually sounded passible.

The chord seemed to echo a bit in the small room packed with people. They immediately started to settle down, eager to see if what Hancock had boasted about at the bar was true.

“My mother taught me this song… I hope I remember all of it.”

Payne took a deep breath and started to strum, her fingers skillfully flying over the strings. The song that wove into the air was simple, slow and bitter sweet. One by one, wordless recognition blazed alive in several people’s widening eyes.

Daisy reached across Irma and grabbed his elbow. “Holy fuck, Ham…. Do you recognize it?” she roughly whispered

Ham nodded his head but stared straight ahead. It was as if he was afraid to miss a single note.

“What is it?” Irma’s curiosity eating at her.

“Hotel California.” Was all Daisy could manage before she too was under the song’s spell, attention locked on Payne.

Every voice was silent by the time Payne opened her mouth to sing. Her voice was strong yet distant as she sang, her eyes focused on something not in the room.  She seemed as much caught up in the magic she was weaving as the rest of the audience.

 _On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair_  
Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air  
Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light  
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim  
I had to stop for the night.

 _There she stood in the doorway;_  
I heard the mission bell  
And I was thinking to myself  
‘This could be heaven or this could be Hell’  
Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way  
There were voices down the corridor,  
I thought I heard them say

 _Welcome to the Hotel California_  
Such a lovely place (such a lovely place)  
Such a lovely face.  
Plenty of room at the Hotel California  
Any time of year (any time of year) you can find it here…

Hancock noticed as she sang some of the older ghouls mouthing the words along with her, some with tears streaming down their hollow cheeks. This must have been a pre-war song. He couldn’t quite understand what all if meant, something about booze, whores, monsters and robots, apparently? The melancholy tone seemed juxtaposed to the somewhat upbeat chorus. While the song itself didn’t make much sense, Hancock watched Payne’s performance, enthralled. Her fingers seemed to be possessed as she ran through an instrumental interlude that trailed off to the end of the song.

She looked up sheepishly as a few in the audience started to clap. Then more joined in, as if they were just clearing their head from a fog. Pretty soon, everyone joined in. Some of the ghouls stood up as they clapped, wiping at their faces. Payne made a small bow before passing off the guitar.

Hancock clapped a hand jovially on her shoulder. “What other surprises do you have, eh?”

Daisy and Magnolia emerged from the crowd, pulling them away from the mass of people. “How in the world do you know that song? I haven’t heard that song is over 200 years!”

“Like I said, my mom. She was into a lot of pre-war art stuff. She taught me dancing too.”

“You can come over and play for me any time you like. I’ll make it worth your while! It is so rare to hear these old songs… it’s almost like hearing them for the first time again!” Daisy gave Payne a generous hug. “Bless your mother for teaching you!” Daisy turned to Hancock. “You should have made her go up on stage! She would have sounded even better!”

“I know better than to try to upstage Mags!” Hancock’s joked.

“Any time you want, you can use the stage, doll” Magnolia piped up. “Just as long as I’m not up there, of course.”

Payne blushed. “No one is going to want to watch me make a fool of myself again.”

Payne excused herself to go grab another drink at the bar. She hoped she was putting up a good front, Hancock could be really perceptive. Performing felt way too good, she forgot how much she missed that rush. As she nursed her drink, people flitted by occasionally stopping for a comment or two. It seemed to her the party was starting to wind down.

Payne caught the blur of Hancock’s red frock as he nimbly leapt on to the bar.

Addressing the crowd, his raspy voice filled the smoky air. “I want to make sure everyone gets a heartfelt thank you from yours truly tonight. Tonight we remember the start of a Goodneighbor built from the ground up for every lost and forgotten wastelander who needs a place to call home. We built  _our_  town safe from bloody tyrants and bigots.”

Charlie had started to pass around rounds and rounds of shots to everyone in the bar. The glasses overflowed with a bubbling brownish-green drink. Payne raised an eyebrow as one was set down on the bar before her.

Hancock continued, the crowd held in rapt attention. “Without every one of you, Goodneighbor would just be another shithole town in this cesspool of a city. Now she sits proudly giving every racist, asshole and bully in the Commonwealth a couple of these.” Hancock exuberantly raised both his middle fingers in the air to thunderous woops and applause. “So raise a glass and let them hear you in Diamond City! Of the people and for the people!”

He jumped back down onto the crumbling boards as people threw back their drinks, shaking hands and clapping shoulders. He slowly made his way to where Payne was sitting, her drink untouched.

“What? Not thirsty?”

“I wasn’t sure it’s clean.” Payne said.

“Come now, just because it might make a brahmin go blind…” Payne frowned. “Seriously, it’s fine. It’s just a little special something I figured out a few years ago playing around with Charley. It’s called a ‘Stinger’. We serve it on special occasions now. No chems involved, I promise.”

Payne gave a small wave of surrender and downed the sticky tasting drink. It indeed did sting going down.

“Does this have tequila in it? Cause damn, I’m feeling it already.” Payne tried to get up, her legs finding it hard to keep their rigidity.

“Whoah, did I finally get you drunk with that one?” Hancock caught her arm to steady her.

“I think you might have. It’s not like I haven’t been drinking all night long… including almost a whole bottle of vodka to myself.” Her balance danced again. “I think I better head home before I end up sleeping this off down here.”

“Let me get you up the stairs.”

Payne batted Hancock’s arms away. “I’m fine, just give me a second.” Her head seemed to clear for a second as she concentrated on the task at hand. She did appear to be walking a bit more steadily now.

“I’m at least going to make sure you get to the Rexford all in one piece. I can’t have my bodyguard passed out in a gutter. What would the neighbors say?”

Payne gave Hancock a sideways glance but decided not to fight him. She very well might need the help navigating all those damn stairs at the hotel. She started up the still elevator, Hancock trailing behind her.

[(Original Post)](https://antiquechampagne.tumblr.com/post/178696149380/chapter-11-part-3)

When Payne emerged on the cobblestone street, the cool night filled up her lungs. She could not shake the feeling that the night was insanely beautiful, the curling wisp of the moon pressed high between rooftops. Nor could she shake the fact that she was having an increasingly difficult time staying upright. Hancock caught her arms as she swung wide in an attempt to steady herself.

“You gonna make it to the Rexford?” Hancock guided her to the wall of the Old State House. The chilly bricks picked against her bare skin.

“Just give me a second.” Payne’s head swam. She flipped back through everything she had drank. She knew she shouldn’t be this bad. A black thought brushed across the muddle mess that was her mind, trying to break through. Something was wrong. Hancock was saying something, but she only caught fragments, lost in her mind fog.

“…can crash…mattresses in the attic…”

“…guys can get Dr. Amari…”

Payne’s stomach lurched painfully, pushing every other thought out of the way. She held up her hand. Hancock stopped blathering.

“No doctors! What was in that shot?” She almost spat out the words.

“Um, some vodka, beer, Nuka-Victory, mutfruit…” Hancock had both his hands on her shoulders, steadying her. His would have been furrowing if there were any eyebrows on his face. “and a few drops of bloodbug, um, stuff… acid?”

“WHAT?” Payne could have slapped him. “You said it was a clean drink!”

“Hey! There aren’t any chems in it!”

Payne’s stomach rolled again. It was taking all the energy she had just to keep it in check.

“Fuck it… either get me to a toilet or a bucket, or you are going to be cleaning more than just puke off the sidewalk.” She could taste bile and blood at the back of her throat. This was not going to be a pleasant end to the night.

Hancock slid an arm around her shoulders and guided her into the State House.

“Just don’t christen the steps. You know what they say about shit running downhill.”

The spiral staircase might as well been a mountain. Payne felt like it took an eon just to get to the second floor. Each step took its toll on her constitution. As they reached a landing, Hancock pushed open a door to the side labeled  _Private._ Inside was a ramshackle bathroom. Payne internally gave a sigh of relief.

“Out!” was all she could manage as she shoved Hancock out and shut the door in one push. Payne dropped to her knees in front of the dingy toilet and finally released volley after volley of vomit.

“You need anything?” he said through the rickety door.

Payne barely managed a  _No_  before returning to gagging and retching. After a while drinks and sour food were replaced by blood and mucus-covered chunks of stomach lining in porcelain bowl. Payne thanked whatever wonky plumber for their work as she flushed mess after mess away.

The hours passes in a haze of pain and nausea. Finally, the waves started to abate. Payne was exhausted, but she managed to stagger over to the door and open it a few inches.

“Could you go down to Daisy and get…” Her voice was raw, strained under the effort of talking. Hancock handed a couple of blood back through. Payne had no energy left to mask the shock on her face. She took them with a wordless thank you. She watched him sit back down on the chair in the hall before closing the door. For a moment, she just stared at the blood packs. Shaking her head, she popped the cap off one and started downing it. Unconsciously Payne avoided herself in Hancock’s bathroom mirror.

Payne sat on the floor, feeling the wash of the warmth as blood pass through her. After a few minutes, she composed herself, and stood up. She was still weak and wobbled, but she could walk. She washed her face off in the sink, frowning in the cracked mirror. Payne’s haggard and sick reflection stared back.

Hancock stood up as she opened the door and stepped out.

“You look like shit.”

“You’re quite the detective, aren’t you?” Payne’s head started pulsing, a headache on the horizon.

“No, that’s Valentine’s shtick.” Payne didn’t have enough brain power to pay attention to him, she just stared at the winding spiral staircase. She might as well have been staring over the edge of the Hoover Dam.

“You aren’t going anywhere tonight.” Hancock stepped forward to grab her hand.

“The attic? You said something before… about a mattress?” She looked up. Ascending the stairs seemed just as perilous as descending in her current state.

Hancock led her through the large set of doors. “No, but there are more pleasant ways to get into my bed, you know?”

Payne stopped. “I’ll just sleep on the couch, okay?”

“Hey, I didn’t have this thing replaced last month just to look pretty.” He sat her down on the edge of the king sized mattress. “But I am going to grab you a bucket just in case you want to paint the floor in here.” Before she could complain, he wandered off. Not having the energy to argue, she slipped off her shoes.

Hancock returned with a bucket and some purified water. He tried to cover her up as she laid down. She shooed him away.

“I’m not a freaking invalid. I just need to sleep this off.” Her abdomen ached and throbbed. She laid her head on the cool pillow, savoring its softness.

“So what set you off? The Victory? Bloodbug?” Hancock settled onto a nearby sofa.

“It was the bloodbug. They don’t have those out west. I guess I am allergic to them or something. I got unlucky once. One latched on and started pumping god know what into me. I lost a diner plate sized chunk out of my thigh. It just kinda bubbled and fell off.” Hancock could hear the drowsiness in her voice, slowing down her cadence. “Hurt like a mother fucker.”

Hancock winced. A few drops in the drink would definitely do a number on a person’s guts. “Must be the acid. Sorry.”

“You didn’t know.” Payne yawned. “Shitty end to a nice evening, though.” She turned over. “It was fun to dress up a bit. If only there was candy, it would have been like a proper Halloween party.”

Hancock started to ask her another question, but she did not answer. She was already out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PART 2 NOTES:
> 
> This my first attempt at including music. If you don’t know all the words to Hotel California, or just want to listen to it check this out: https://youtu.be/aNyK6EcHlzM
> 
> I debated on including all the lyrics, but I decided to only include a few to lead in to Hancock’s reaction… maybe I should have included everything? Let me know what you think.
> 
> I had a bit of trouble with this chapter. If you have any suggestions to help with clarification, please let me know!
> 
> PART 3
> 
> This is the last part... something smutty this way comes after this. You have been warned.
> 
> Also, I know there is no canonical bathroom in the Old State House. They had one installed... because why not?


	12. Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when your mind wanders?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short smutty chapter and my first attempt at anything like this. I hope it is okay.

[(Original Post)](https://antiquechampagne.tumblr.com/post/178756680005/chapter-12)

Payne saw she surrounded by an oppressive and thick fog. Not only could she not see it, but she felt it, thick and impassible. Light tried to penetrate from above, but the thick clouds choked out most of it. Thunder rumbled in the distance and green lightning blazed for a fraction of a second before disappearing. She could hear unnamable horrors growling and moving within the fog but she was all but blind in the disorienting swirling mist. She stood defensively but painfully ill-equipped without her armor or weapons.  She only wore a threadbare t-shirt and black cargo pants. Payne quickly turned at every noise, trying to face her unknown enemies, her empty hand balled into fists.

For a moment, the fog parted revealing a Hancock collapsed in a rumbled heap in the dirt. Payne sprinted to his side as the fog tried to close in, trying to steal him from her. She shook him awake and pulled him to his feet.

She was trying to yell, but her voice seemed so small compared to the terror in the mist. “We gotta move! Now!” Payne ran with no way to gauge where they were going, nearly running into walls and tripping on debris. She seemed to running in an endless maze of deserted streets and broken buildings, but nothing was familiar. No landmarks or traces of other people offered any hope of leading them someplace safe.

Turning down a back alley, the fog closed in behind them, the snarls and yelps coming from every direction. Around another corner, there suddenly appeared a possibility of escape. A Pulowski Preservation shelter. Payne scurried inside, nearly closing the door on Hancock’s arm before he pulled it inside.

Inside, Payne strained to hear any evidence of what was chasing them, but appeared to be utterly quiet shut inside the metal tube.

As she listened, she slowly became aware of the fact that these tubes were not designed to fit more than one person. Her attention shifted to Hancock, who appeared to now be fully recovered and pressed against her body awkwardly. She could feel his breath on her neck, his shoulder brushing hers.

“Whatever that was, it seems to be gone. I can’t hear it anymore.” His face was inches from hers. She tried to give them both a modicum of personal space by twisting her body slightly which somehow only succeeded in moving his body closer.

“Are you hurt?” She could now feel his thigh touching hers. Payne’s mind could only focus on the warmth radiating off him. She swallowed and averted her gaze from his face. His eyes seemed to bore into her.

 _Why the hell is he looking at me like that?_ Thought Payne, but some primal part of her lizard brain knew. It screamed at her as her own body temperature began to rise.

“Hurt? No… not _hurt_ …” He ran his finger down the length of her neck. “and I have a feeling you aren’t hurting either…” His touch was like a match being struck on her skin, setting her senses ablaze. She unconsciously drew in a shallow gasp. Hancock’s black eyes sparkled as a sly predatory smile spread across his lips.

Hancock drew closer as he started grazing the other side of her neck with little sucking kisses, slowly moving down her shoulder while cradling her head with his other hand.

“Hancock… I…” Payne couldn’t string a coherent thought together, her brain fluttering between his electric touch and the rest of her body responding. Something that she though long dead was awakening.

He pulled back. “If you want me to stop, I will.” His thumb traced circles on her cheek.

“God, no. Don’t stop!” Was that her words or someone else? This was dangerous, so dangerous. A small voice in her head tried to restrain her, to get her to remember what had happened before. She didn’t care. She wrapped her hand around his trim frame and pulled him closer.

They kissed roughly, his fingers pulling at her hair, her hand knocking off his hat as it ran over his scarred head. Pressed together against the steel, she could feel the heat radiating off his cock through their clothes. She plunged her tongue into his mouth as she reached under his coat to grab his tight ass. Hancock let a grunt of pleasure escape into her hungry mouth.

Hancock broke off, again kissing and biting her neck but this time reaching under her shirt to cup and grope her with a free hand. Frustrated by the constricting shirt, he roughly rolled up her shirt to expose her breasts. Payne arched against him as he twirled her nipple between his nimble fingers.

His mouth started to drift south, following the curves of her body. He slipped his hungry fingers between the waistband of both her pants and panties, gliding across Payne’s smooth cool skin. Hancock looked up, catching her half-closed eye with a devilish smile before roughly ripping down her clothes.

“Oh God, Hancock…” Payne closed her eyes as his kisses continued lower and lower…

Payne’s eyes rocketed open as she woke up with a start, violently pulled back into reality. Her body shook and pulsed all over, yearning for a release. She held herself still under the covers, unwilling to move until the hunger relented. As silently as she could, she padded off to the bathroom. She stared at her reflection, wondering how these long buried feelings managed to emerge after all this time.

Suddenly she heard something behind her.

“Are you okay?”

On instinct, Payne grabbed the first thing she saw and turned, ready to fight. She found herself face to face with a groggy Hancock lazily rubbing his neck brandishing a blue toothbrush.

“Whoa killer!” Hancock threw up his hands in mock surrender. “I promise I always brush twice a day!” He snickered.

“Shut up.” Payne grumbled as she put the ‘weapon’ down. “I’m fine. A dream just woke me up.”

“It must have been a _good_ one.” Teased Hancock.

Payne froze. “Why do you say that?”

“Cause you calling my name is what woke me up.”

Payne let out a frustrated grunt as she slammed the bathroom door in his smug face. Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she wondered how the hell she was going to get through the day with her dignity intact without killing him.


	13. Eggs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hancock plans a little trip while Payne attempts to mend some fences.

[(Original Post)](https://antiquechampagne.tumblr.com/post/178810594010/chapter-13)

She could not spend all morning in the bathroom hiding from him. She knew that intellectually, but it didn’t make coming out any easier. She tried straightening her disheveled hair with her fingers after trying to find a brush, logic dictating that Hancock had no need for such devices. Eventually she made her way out and found him in his office eating breakfast, which happened to be grabbing Sugar Bombs straight out of the box and popping them in his mouth.

“Morning, Dreamer!” Payne rolled her eyes. She was wondering when he would find a stupid moniker for her… but of course, it had to be this. “Think your stomach can handle some food yet?” He shook the box in her direction. “Or would some of the hair of dog that bit ya be better?” On the table sat a half-full bottle of vodka. Payne’s guts rolled at both prospects and declined.

“Thanks for helping me out last night.” She rubbed her forehead; a headache seemed to building behind her eyes.

“Sit down and eat something. While you don’t look as much like shit, you still look horrible.”

Payne shook her head. “I have to get back to the Rexford…” Her mind tried to come up with a logical reason for leaving, but she came up empty handed.

“It’s 10 in the afternoon. You aren’t going anywhere.”

It took a second for his reasoning to percolate through the cotton fluff that had become her head, and then she realized he was right. She was still in the slinky Mistress of Mystery. Unless she wanted to reach her hotel room looking like a roast brahmin, she was stuck here.

“I got some of my guys on it. They should be back soon. Seriously, take a load off.” He nodded to the other couch. It groaned as Payne sat down and absent-mindedly rubbed her arms.

 “What are those?” Hancock pointed to her arms and the two perfectly round scars visible on her upper arms, one placed above the other.

Payne turned her body, making them harder to see. “Scars.”  She sat silently, knowing he was not going to leave it at that.

“And…”

“They are the reason I don’t like doctors.” The tone of her voice made it extremely clear this subject was not up for discussion.

Fahrenheit knocked on the open doorframe to announce her presence. “Found one for ya, boss.” She walked over to Hancock, a plastic brush in hand. Hancock nodded in Payne’s direction.

Payne accepted it, nodding her thanks. She excused herself, again retreating to the bathroom but this time to straighten her hair.

“The guys should be back with her stuff in a few minutes. I’m surprised to see that dress still intact.” Fahrenheit said wryly.

“If only… she spent most of the night in the bathroom.”

“She couldn’t stand your ugly mug either?” she ribbed.

Hancock playfully threw a handful of colorful cereal at Fahr’s head.

“This came for you late yesterday on one of the supply caravans.” She handed him a crumpled note.

After a few minutes, Payne came back, cereal crunching under her bare feet. “What the hell?” She scowled at Hancock, who just smiled.

“When are the guys supposed to be back with my clothes?” As Payne sat down to pick crumbs off her heel, an idea hit her. “They didn’t go to the Rexford, did they?” Fahrenheit nodded. “Irma has my clothes; I changed at the Memory Den.”

Fahrenheit pursed her lips. “No wonder they are taking so long. I’ll go get them myself.” After she left, Payne watched Hancock as he finished reading the letter and put it down.

“What’s that about?” she asked.

“A possible opportunity for Goodneighbor.” Hancock tapped the table with his index finger as he mulled over the letter in his head. Suddenly, he turned to Payne and pointed. “You and me, we are going to take a little trip into the city.” He nodded to himself, confirming the plan in his head as he talked. “Should only take a couple of days. Tommy can put us up if we need it. Get out and have some fun.”

“Just the two of us? Why not take some guys with us… Fahr?” The thought of traveling with Hancock alone seemed like a really bad idea at the moment.

“Nah, the Combat Zone isn’t that far. Plus, the more people that tag along, the more attention we will attract. Fahr can stay back and take care of business while we are away.” Payne looked unsure. Hancock got up and walked behind the couch, putting his hands on her bare shoulders. “Don’t worry, Dream Girl, you job is just to make sure I get there and back in one piece. Besides, I have a feeling you are going to like it there… there is a huge stage to ham it up on!” He squeezed her shoulders playfully.

Almost on cue, Fahrenheit returned with a bag full of clothes in one hand and her helmet in the other.

“Thank God!” Payne sprang up, took her things and quickly dressed in the bathroom. She popped her head into the room where Hancock and Fahrenheit were talking about the upcoming trip for a quick good bye before making her exit down the staircase.

“Be ready in two days!” Hancock called as Payne closed the door and stepped out onto the street. The sunlight blinded her, even though the darkened visor of her helmet. As she headed towards the Rexford, she realized how hungry she was. She wanted something hot. Turning around, she went down to see if Charley had anything on for lunch that sounded good.

The Third Rail looked like a bomb went off; table and chairs askew, empty bottles and refuse stacked up everywhere. A few partiers were passed out in corners, slouched in odd painful positions. Charlie buzzed around, cleaning as he went about his Herculean task.

“Bugger off, we’re closed.”

Payne’s stomach growled. “How about this, Charley. I’ll make myself a little snack and in return, I’ll help you clean up a bit? Deal?”

Charley momentarily paused. “Deal.” He grumbled before returning to cleaning up a nasty mess on the stage.

Letting herself behind the bar, she grabbed a pan from the stove and looked around for ingredients to make something. She found a few things and started making herself mirelurk scrambled eggs with bits of tatos and Cram chunks. The smell wafted through the nearly still bar, causing a few of the crumpled leftover patrons to stir. One started to retch before being chased out by a very angry profanity spouting Mr. Handy.

Payne was surprised to see MacCready stumble out of the VIP room and slump down at the bar, glasses clinking as he shoved them out of the way as he sat.

Payne pushed a full steaming plate and a beer in front of him then served herself, proper herself up to eat sitting on the back bar.

“You’re still going to pay for that.” Barked Charlie from across the room. MacCready finally looked up and registered that it wasn’t a robot manning the bar, but Payne. He did a double take as his food and put the fork down.

“I am not going to poison you, for Christ’s sake.”

“How do I know what that is? Who knows what you could be making back there!” He was too hung over to yell, but the venom in his voice was clear.

Payne picked up the half-empty can of Cram off the stove and shoved it at him. “What the hell do you think I put in scrambled eggs?” MacCready turned up his nose at the gesture. “What is your problem, man? I’m just trying to be nice here.”

MacCready turned a wicked finger at her. “I saw what you did to that raider. That aint right, no matter where you are.”

“What exactly do you think I did?” MacCready looked down at the plate of food, smugly nudging it towards her.

“That guy had his throat torn out! You healed from a head wound in a day and walked through a nuke blast like it was nothing!”

“You think I am a fucking magic cannibal or something? I know I am a lot of things but I’m not a cannibal.” She was getting nowhere. “Look, I’m not here to fight with you, I just want something to eat and human flesh isn’t on the menu. You are welcome to have some too. I did what I had to do to get us out of that dead end situation. It’s your choice to never work with me again, fine. I saved your dumb ass. I didn’t have to. Get over yourself.” Payne silently went back to eating.

MacCready stewed at the bar, poking at his eggs with the fork. Eventually, the he lifted some to his mouth. Payne could not quite read the expression on his face.

“What now? What’s wrong with the eggs?” She was ready for another tirade.

MacCready finished his bite. “Nothing. Their fucking good eggs.” He said quietly. They both finished their plates, a kind of silent truce developing between them.


	14. Johnny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be careful what you ask for, you just might receive...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put the link to the appropriate song into the story itself. I wonder if this works better than in a note. Let me know which you prefer!
> 
> Also: Writing about dancing is extremely difficult.

[(Original Post)](https://antiquechampagne.tumblr.com/post/178918840930/chapter-14)

A few days later, Payne found herself in the ruins of Boston, Hancock in tow. He practically flew out the door, wanderlust pulsing through his veins. That, or the Psycho, Payne supposed. Payne had only been told where they were headed, The Combat Zone, and not much else. Once they were out of sight of Goodneighbor, she turned to Hancock.

“So, you gunna fill me in on what we are doing out here? What’s at The Combat Zone?”

“I know the guy who runs it, Tommy Lonegan.  He’s a tough ghoul with an entrepreneurial spirit, let me tell ya. He started an operation right in the middle of the Theater district. A blood sport arena right in the middle of one of the toughest parts of town. Anyway, he wants to talk about some kind of business arrangement.”

The two of them quickly dispatched a small nest of raiders, picking their bodies of anything useful. Hancock’s body language changed as they rounded a corner. “Be careful up here. We’re entering the Commons. You ever seen Swan?” Payne noticed writing scrawled on the buildings, advertising the dangers that lay ahead. She had never been to this area of the city.

“Seen a swan?”

“Not _a_ swan. _Swan_.” He slowed down as they entered a large square with a placid pond in the middle. “Follow me and stay down, unless you want to end up as Swan’s dinner.”

They skirted the edge of what had once been a lovely garden pond. Now it lay in ruins, the trees bare and twisted and its wrought iron fence twisted and rusted. Hancock pointed toward the water. There in the middle of the pond looked to be a broken and battered white swan shaped boat stuck in a pile of debris and mud. It look Payne a moment to realize there was a gigantic contorted bluish black face hovering just above the water’s surface. The pile was not debris but the broad shoulders of a partially submerged super mutant. From the size, Payne estimated it was probably a giant behemoth. She swallowed. There was definitely a reason to be cautious here. They crept south and away from Swan’s pond as quickly as possible.

Once they were clear, Payne released the breath she hadn’t realized she been holding. “That is one big fucking Swan!”

“No shit! Raiders won’t even touch the place. I find if you don’t bother him, he tends to leave you alone. Too many newbies end up a pancake because they stumble into the pond or hot shots think they can take him out.” Hancock lit a cigarette and took along drag. He offered one to Payne.

Payne declined. “No thanks, never liked cancer sticks.” Hancock shrugged. Soon they found themselves facing the entrance of a theater with ‘Combat Zone’ painted in red across a white marquee. The walls of the alley leading to the entrance had several plywood boards filled up rules.

Hancock casually pushed open the doors and entered the small lobby. More lists of rules were plastered the walls. Payne could smell old blood permeating the place, putting her on edge.  Her hand hovered over her side arm as Hancock entered the theater itself.

Stepping in, the theater opened up into a massive sea of seats, all facing the dilapidated stage. Makeshift catwalks rose overhead, using the collapsed balcony as a base. Payne could see a bar, medical bay and maybe an unused shop tucked away under the ramps. All of them were empty.

Hancock called out. “Jeeze Tommy, I heard this place had gone quiet, but this is ridiculous!”

A ghoul stuck his head out from a booth above them.  “Looks like my new ‘guards’ are pieces of worthless crap!” He grabbed a nearby bottle and hurled it off in the direction of a slumbering man hidden spread across a few rotting red velvet seats.

“SHIT!” Startled awake, the man grabbed his gun and started waving it around clumsily. Payne drew her own, but Hancock seemed unconcerned. In fact, he was snickering.

“Jerry, get to work, you lazy jackass!” Tommy yelled over the banister as walked down to meet them, hands on his hips. “It’s so hard to find good help. You get what you pay for, I suppose.” Tommy wore a dusty tan suit with a stuffy striped tie. He thrust out his hand to Hancock, who returned the gesture. “How’s it going, Hancock?”

“Hey, Tommy. This place is looking a little dead, isn’t it? Having a little trouble since your prize fighter left ya?”

“That’s kinda what I want to talk to you about. Do you mind if we talk while I work up here? Trying to upgrade the sound system.” He put his arm around Hancock shoulders and guided him up the ramp. Payne followed. “Um, we’re going to talk business, honey. Feel free to help yourself to the bar or whatever. You might run into my two employees down there, please don’t kill them.”

Payne tensed her jaw but left behind when Hancock nodded her off. If Hancock felt he was safe enough to have her lounge around, then that is what she would do. She found a half bottle of whiskey behind the bar and a box of snack cakes. She left a few caps in their place, not wanting to ruffle any feathers. She brought her lunch and sat on the edge of the stage. This gave her the widest view of the theater. She could see Hancock and Tommy talking in what she assumed was the sound booth above. After finishing, boredom got the best of her and she started wandering around.

Poking around, she ran into two other people. They grunted their hellos and she continued studying her surroundings. She heard static crackle over the speakers while she looked around on stage. Behind the giant red curtains lay piles of pipe, wire fencing and coils of razor wire. On the large stage was the skeletal remains of a fighting ring. Several long pipes still stuck vertically out of the wooden stage, but whatever had created the walls had been dismantled. Another surge of sound came from the speakers, this time ending in a loud pop.

Tommy stuck his head out. “Jerry! JERRY!” Jerry emerged from a side room, snuffing out a cigarette as he meander out. “Go see if the mic is feeding properly.” Jerry hemmed at the request. “Get your ass over there and say something!” Reluctantly Jerry mounted the stage and started mumbling into the mic.

Swearing drifted down from the crow’s nest followed by Hancock’s resounding laugh. After a few minutes, Jerry’s voice violently erupted across the theater.

“…sting, one, two, three…Testing…” Jerry’s breathtaking performance was abruptly cut short. Over the sound system, Tommy’s voice cut in, reverberating off the walls.

“That’s enough.”

Stepping onto the stage, Payne noticed a half lowered trap door leading beneath the stage. Payne wonderer what Tommy hand in mind for this place. She placed her hand on one of the skeletal poles. She leaned against it, resting and looking out lazily across all the empty seats, her arms arched above her head. It has been a nice place once, filled with people.

Up in the sound booth, Hancock and Tommy had been talking. He had dismantled the fighting cage for some well-needed repairs but those had yet to be completed. He needed a revenue source in the meantime. Tommy proposed some half-baked ideas to try and lure folks through the doors, but none of them sounded to Hancock likely to prove fruitful. Most of Goodneighbor’s residents just wouldn’t take the risk of traveling through this part of the city just for entertainment. He knew why Tommy had asked him out here, but he wasn’t ready to invest in something that probably wouldn’t have any return on his investment.

Out of the corner of his eye, he had watched Payne laze around the stage as they talked. Tommy had also started to take an interest in Payne as well, stopping a moment to scrutinize her from a distance.

“You get tired of your old bodyguard?” Tommy flick a ghastly thumb down at the stage.

“Nah. There is more than enough of me to share.”

“Is she a local?”

“Nope. New Vegas.”

Tommy’s eyes opened wide at that bit of information, his square jaw flexed as mind started calculating. “She’s a long way from home, isn’t she?” His tone had changed and Hancock noticed. Tommy flicked a few switches on the vast panel before him. Music started playing lowly throughout the theater. Payne absent-mindedly swayed to it, still leaning on the pole. Tommy watched her almost predatorily. It was rubbing Hancock the wrong way.

“What are you up to, Tommy?”

Tommy held a finger up. He grabbed the small mic on the board, drawing it close to his thin lips. “Hey cupcake?” Payne turned icy eyes up at the booth. “You feel like giving us a little show?”

Payne stood up straight, her eyes narrow slits. She looked to Hancock. He shrugged. Clearly this wasn’t his idea.

Payne thought for a moment. How many times would she have this kind of an opportunity, on a stage no less? She put her hands on her hips. “My name is Payne, _pal_. I don’t perform unless I am paid. And I have to have an audience.”

“Why don’t we think of this as a little audition, sweetheart?”

Payne said nothing, walked back to the pole, leaned as she had before. This time gesticulating a middle finger out Tommy’s way. Hancock snickered. Tommy grunted in frustration. He put his hand on the mic.

“Can’t you make her…?” He motioned to the stage.

Hancock snorted. “I pay her to protect me and kill things. Performing isn’t really in the cards.”

Tommy returned to the mic. “Fine. Ronald; grabs some caps from the office. Jerry; get your butt in a seat.” Payne slowly walked to the edge of the stage, shedding her jacket and pack. Ronald appeared, dropping caps into her open hand before sitting down. Hancock settled into a seat, still watching from above.

Tommy’s voice crackled over the speakers. “Any requests?” Payne shrugged.

It was Tommy’s turn to snicker to himself. He flipped through some holotapes and popped one into the machine.

Low slow and somber notes filled the air, almost dirge like. Tommy thought he had outsmarted her, but Hancock saw a crafty smile on Payne’s face as she turned around, her head lilting to one side. She slowly reached up and unpinned her hair. Her black locks showering down languorously.

[ _Play the guitar, play it again, my Johnny_ ](https://youtu.be/V2VTulxEDig)

[ _Maybe you're cold but you're so warm inside_ ](https://youtu.be/V2VTulxEDig)

Payne moved slowly and rhythmically to the music. Gently, she painted the very image of a heartsick mistress with her body. Her arms and legs traced empty tender arcs through the air. She reached back to the pole, pulled herself to it. Arching her back, she draping against it like a lover.

[ _What if you go, what if you stay, I love you_ ](https://youtu.be/V2VTulxEDig)

[ _But if you're cruel, you can be kind, I know_ ](https://youtu.be/V2VTulxEDig)

Hancock lost track of the music and just watched her, each move speaking to the pain of unreturned and misunderstood desire. The dirty pole was no longer a bit metal frame, but this desperately wanted but heartless _Johnny Guitar_. Her legs wove delicate patterns over the cracked and crumbling wood. Her arms clung desperately to the pole. Her face a mask of sweet yearning.

As the last refrain ended and the guitar strummed to the finale, Payne reached above her head and, holding onto the pole, lowered herself slowly to the floor. The theater was completely silent. Payne looked up, a huge shit-eating grin on her face and flipped two middle fingers right in Tommy’s face.

Hancock reached over and stole the mic, Tommy momentarily speechless.

“I think you passed the audition!” He boomed.

The two lackeys clapped pitifully from the audience. Hancock smirked as he noticed Jerry rummaging through his pockets to put a few more caps on the apron of the stage.

Tommy turned the sound system off and turned to Hancock, a serious look on his face. “I want to get to brass tacks with you right now, John. How much for her contract?”

“What?” Hancock was taken aback. “No.”

“I’ll buy it out, whatever amount you ask.”

“No… _no_ as in I don’t own her. And no, that is fucked up, Tommy.”

“That’s how this business works. Look, John, I need an act like that. Did you just see what I saw? She would get people from the whole Commonwealth to walk through the fucking Glowing Sea to see her. Just name your price.”

“I’m not her Goddamn owner, or pimp… or whatever screwed up concept you have in mind. Though, you can certainly try to convincing her to stay. You probably won’t have much of a chance, _cupcake_!” Hancock got up, turning to leave. He didn’t feel like looking at Tommy’s desperate anymore. “I think we are done here.”

Tommy backed off. “It’s getting late. You guys are more than welcome to stay the night.”

After a quick discussion, they decided to stay. Jerry tried to flirt with Payne throughout dinner with few results.

Tommy suggested retiring to the balcony. They found a few old bedrolls tucked away in a corner.

“Tommy wanted me to ask you something.” Hancock ventured as he stretched out on the floor.

“Let me guess. He wants me to dance for him?” Hancock nodded. “Fat chance in hell.”

He stared at the ceiling. “It sounded like he would pay you well.”

“I’ve never worked for a pig like him, and I’m not going to start with him.” Payne smiled. “Besides, could it be any more obvious that he is wearing a wig?”

Hancock snorted. “You prefer your ghouls _au natural_?” He rubbed his hairless scalp with one hand.

It was Payne’s turn to snort this time.

The next morning as they packed up to leave, Tommy pulled Hancock aside. He knew had overstepped. “Look, I’m sorry about yesterday but I don’t think you know who you might have with you. I’ve been stewing about this all night. Payne says she is from New Vegas. Are you sure?”

“Yeah, that’s what she said. ‘Vegas’.” Hancock didn’t see the point of this conversation anymore.

“Listen to me. No, she’s not. She’s not from _New Vegas_ , John. She’s from _Las Vegas_.”

Hancock stopped.

Tommy continued. “I don’t know how, but she is prewar. It’s the way she moves, I’ve seen it before.”

“How?” Hancock turned to face Tommy, his eyes narrow and full of caution. “Why do you think that?”

“Listen. Back before the war, I had a bookie buddy who worked out of Las Vegas. He and I, we were close, like brothers. I visited the strip maybe half a dozen times a year. The gals out there, the way they moved…” he closed his eyes “They were something else. I haven’t seen it since, but I remember it. Her face…” He opened his eyes and stared right into Hancock’s eye. “Payne is extraordinary. Did you at least bring my proposition up with her?”

“Yeah, but I’m afraid she’s still not interested.” Hancock returned to Payne and they left drenched in the morning sun.


	15. Ribbons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is a long one.
> 
> Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

[(Original Post)](https://antiquechampagne.tumblr.com/post/179077976850/chapter-15)

The morning light cut sharply through the ruined landscape of the city, throwing pockets of deep shadow haphazardly around. They decided to avoid Swan by taking a more eastern route. Payne took point as they strolled slowly through the ruins. She was glad Hancock knew the city, because she found herself getting turned around too easily.

After a while, Hancock closed the distance between the two of them. “Your mom taught you how to play the guitar. Did your mom teach you to pole dance too?”

Payne should have been expecting something along these lines, but it still made her stop for a beat. “Yes, she did. You could say it was part of the family business.”

“Man, I wish I could meet your mom! She’s a hell of a teacher.”

“She’s dead, so that might be a little hard.”

It was Hancock who was silent for a moment this time. “Sorry to hear that. Is that why you left?”

“No, she had been dead for a long time before I finally decided to leave.”

“Why did you leave?” He picked his between deep water filled pot holes. “I mean, Boston is pretty damn far to wander just for the hell of it.”

“Is it?” Payne stopped and leaned against a concrete barrier still in shadow, popping the cap off a soda they had scavenged. “I just felt it was time, I had no friends or family around anymore. Forces were starting to battle for control of the Mojave. I was not interested in getting in the middle of a pissing match between the NCR and Caesar’s Legion. I got the hell out of Dodge before shit got serious.” Lifting her helmet, she drank her fill then passed the bottle to Hancock. “I heard later that the NCR held on to the Dam, but just barely… but I haven’t heard anything since. Guess I was too far out.”

Hancock had heard of the New California Republic, but not the other side. He finished off the bottle. “I could see if my contacts could find out anything if you like.”

“Don’t bother. It’s been years, but like I said… there is nothing for me back there. Not anymore. I stayed in the Washington DC area for a little bit. That ended… badly.”

They continued to walk and chat. A growling mangy dog stepped out of the bus stop and ran towards them, lips curled back from ragged teeth. Hancock pulled his shot gun out, but Payne put her hand on the barrel, forcing it down. She kneeled and outstretched her hand as it approached. Snarling and snapping, it slowed, almost tip toeing up to Payne. It sniffed her loosely balled fist.

“Go on, get going.” She whispered. The dog turned and trotted off.

“Nice trick.” Commented Hancock.

Payne shrugged. “It comes in handy occasionally.” Payne looked down at pavement momentarily as they rounded a corner, still thinking of the events in DC.

That proved to be a mistake. Quite suddenly, they found themselves in the path of a massive hulking deathclaw sniffing around a few yards away. It immediately spotted them, letting out deafening roar that knocked them both to the ground before they could react.

Payne got to her feet first, grabbing Hancock as she rose. Quickly scanning, she only spotted one possible safe refuge… if they could make it there in time.

“Go! Now!” She pointed to the blue cylinder across the intersection. They both ran as fast as they could to the Pulowski shelter.

Unfortunately, the beast was faster, catching up with them just as they reached the opposite curb. Hancock pushed the buttons to unlock the door, each action seemed painfully slow.

Payne pivoted, placing herself between Hancock and impending doom. There wasn’t enough time to reach for her more powerful rifle strapped to her back. Instead she leveled her pistol and started firing as she heard the door behind her scrape open. The bullets ricochet of the creatures thick scales. Letting out a deafening bellow, it brought a giant clawed hand down, its sickle like claws slicing deep gouges across Payne’s chest. Her gun clattered to the pavement as she felt Hancock grab her by the back of her jacket, pulling her inside. As the deathclaw’s jaws opened for a bite, Hancock slammed the curved door shut. They could hear the frustrated beast beat on the steel just inches away, growling and clawing for its stolen meal. For a second it relented, but then suddenly from behind Hancock came a thunderous thump, as the beast slammed it tail into the side of the shelter, creating a baseball bat sized depression. They waited for another attack to knock the shelter off its foundation but none came. Payne gripped the door tightly.

Hancock listen, but couldn’t hear anything outside. “I think you can let go of the door now.” Payne didn’t move. He put his hands over hers to try and loosen her grip but as he did he glanced down. The floor of the shelter was thick with fresh blood.

“Payne?” Calling her name seemed to break the spell that was holding her in place. She slowly turned around. “Oh, fuck…”

Payne’s knees started to buckle. Hancock caught her as she fell, guiding her gently down to sit on the wet floor. He quickly removed her helmet.

She looked up at him, her face pale. “I think I might be in shock.” The front of her shirt lay in shreds, blood pouring from three deep wounds stretching from her collar bone down across her torso.

“Ya think?” He started to reach awkwardly into his pack, the space cramped with the two of them.

“No…you cant…” the pain was starting to creep back into Payne’s consciousness, stealing her breath.

“Shit, right.” He paused, unsure. “What do you need me to do?”

“Wash out…” Payne feebly waved her hand over her chest. Was it here heartbeat she could hear, or was that his? She could taste blood in the back of her throat.

Hancock poured a cold can of purified water over her, picking bit of dirt and asphalt out of her wounds as he found them. The water bubbled where the damage had gone deep enough to rip into her lungs. Once the can was done, more warm blood rose up from her torn flesh. Darkness ate at the edges of her vision. She tried to fight against them.

Payne grimaced. She tried to reach behind her for her pack. The motion brought a violent wave of pain that wracked her body. As she shrieked back, a bright red dribble of blood ran down from her nose and mouth. Her head rolled to the side as her consciousness receded.

Hancock gently nestled her head between his hands. “Hey, hey… wake up, Dreamer. You aren’t allowed to go to sleep just yet.” His voice broke through the darkness and she clawed her way back. Opening her eyes, she found Hancock’s face inches from hers as he kneeled down with her.

Payne managed a meager smile. “I think I prefer my other dream…” In her muddled mind, she found her situation strangely amusing.

Hancock reached around her to reach into her pack. His chest brushed against her face. Payne found herself fascinated by his smell, like a mix of cinnamon and dry fall leaves. That thought captivated her attention as Hancock pulled away from her, a pair of blood packs in his hand.

Payne stared at them, hesitating. She didn’t want to do this in front of him. It was one thing that he knew what she was, it was another for him to see it. She didn’t want him to see her like that, for him to have that memory of her.

His brow furrowed as he held them to her. “Do I need to open them or something?” He turned one over. “You gotta give me a little guidance here. I’m out of my league here.”

Payne winced as she reached up to grab a bag. “Please… just don’t look.” Hancock looked around. In the coffin like space, there wasn’t much more he could do. Payne tried to turn away before she bit into the tube. The rush of coppery fluid hitting her tongue made her close her eyes. The world raced away, replaced by the flood of liquid pleasure.

He tried to look at his hands, the dent in the wall, anything. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her body relax and heard her breath slow. Scared that she might have blacked out, Hancock looked back to see vigorously squeezing the bag, forcing the blood greedily into her mouth. He looked down. The wounds on her chest started to close as he watched, slowly squeezing together.  As she grabbed the second bad, her eyes met his… only now the whites of her eyes were pitch black, like his. She gasped, flashing her sharp unnaturally lengthened canine teeth.

Startled, Hancock averted his eyes again. “Sorry.”

Frowning, she bit into the second bag. Her wounds finished closing. She waited for the warm afterglow to subside before telling him it was okay to turn around.

The shame on Payne’s face was nearly tangible. She stared at the blood-covered floor of the shelter, not daring to look up. The silence was crushing her.

“I told you not to look.” She lowly muttered.

Hancock slowly hooked a finger under her chin, gently pulling up, forcing her to look at him. “ _I’m_ sorry. You asked me not to look but I thought…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.” His hand traveled down to the neck of her shredded shirt. Pushing a few shreds slightly aside, he uncovered a swath of her newly healed unscarred chest.

“It works fast, though.”

Realizing how exposed she was, Payne grabbed the tatters, pulling them together as she turned away. Her face burned. Hancock, realizing what he had overstepped, pulled away too.

Hancock started to stammer another apology, but Payne held up her hand. Something else had caught her attention. Putting a finger to her lips, she silenced him as she pressed her ear to the steel door. Seeing this, Hancock did the same, though he was careful not to touch her in the process.

Outside they heard the deathclaw’s booming roar in the distance followed by the ground shaking as it charged. Gunfire erupted. Volley after volley, and the sound of people shouting. The fighting drew closer. Instinctively both Payne and Hancock dropped down as far as they could, their bodies overlapping, covering their heads. Between the shouts and gunfire, Payne heard something else. The grinding of wheels on the pavement.

 _“THREAT NEURTALIZATION IN PROGRESS”_ Resounded a low robotic voice followed by a long volley of heavy machine gun fire. Bullets dinged off the metal cylinder, leaving quarter-sized divots as they hit. A few stray shots pierced the steel, one taking out the feeble light and plugging them into darkness, leaving star like punctures above their heads. The deathclaw bellowed and the ground shuddered again.

A robotic female voice, smooth and deadly like KLEOs, came from the right. “Engaging hostile.” The _THUM_ of a high power laser blast followed.

“Jesus Christ… what the hell is happening out there!” Payne whispered to Hancock.

An unsettling silence fell after the beast collapsed on the ground. Jubilant whoops and cursing quickly filled the air. Ecstatic over their victory over the deathclaw, the group convened close enough that Payne and Hancock didn’t dare move for fear of drawing their attention. They couched silently for what felt like ages, their joints aching, muscles straining.

They heard footsteps grow closer.

“Hey Ed, what are you doing?” called a female voice.

“Seeing what’s in this thing.”

Payne and Hancock’s eyes locked in the near darkness. There was no way they were going to be able to fight whatever group was outside, not with the firepower they heard. Payne felt around for something to quickly jam in the door’s track but found nothing.

“Just be quick about it, we need to keep moving.” The foot step drew closer.

Thinking as fast as she could, Payne wedged her own leg in the track, trapping it between the edge of the door and a support. She pulled Hancock closer to her and hopefully out of the line of sight.

The man outside tried to slide the door open, but could only manage a few inches. A bright beam of light split the black like a knife. He tried several more times, each with considerable more strength behind it. Payne bit her lip to keep from crying out as her knee bashed into the steel support.

“It’s stuck!” The man called back. They heard something drug along the ground. Moments later, a wooden board thrusted through the opening.

Payne braced for the pain. She looked up helplessly just as the first slam came. Sparks filled her vision as the force split her kneecap, but the door did not budge. Repeatedly the man tried to pry the door open, but Payne’s leg barred the track. To keep from screaming out, Payne resorted to biting her hand, quickly drawing blood.

“Hurry up, dipshit!” call the impatient woman.

The board withdrew. Payne and Hancock held their breath as the man attempted to look inside.

“Nothing.” They heard him grumble.

“WHAT?”

“All I can see is blood, nothing good inside.” He walked away.

Payne and Hancock sat frozen until the sound of monstrous wheels ground passed and into the distance. Cautiously Hancock looked out the open slit, watching their heavily armored backs until they disappeared.

He shook his head as he helped Payne stand. “Never heard of the Rust Devils before.” Payne leaned against the wall, farthest from the shaft of light, trying to clear the remaining spots from her vision.

“Rust Devils?”

“I guess that’s what they call themselves… it’s written on the back of one of their armor.” He looked at the lumpy mess that was Payne’s left knee. “You just can’t catch a break today, can you?”

“Apparently not. I’m out of blood packs too.” She tried to put some weight on her leg and quickly found that to be a bad idea. White-hot pain radiated out from her crushed joint, causing her to sharply suck in her breath.

“What about a stimpak, just so you can put some weight on it?”

Hancock’s proposal had merit. Stimpaks didn’t work nearly as well on her as blood, but they did do a little. She shook her head in agreement and Hancock grabbed one out of his pack.

She gritted her teeth together as she held her shattered knee together. Hancock administered the injection and she could feel the tissue respond, delicately knitting tissue back together slowly. It might not do a lot for broken bones, but after about 10 minutes, she could at least put a modicum of weight on it.

“We have another problem. I can’t leave like this.” She motioned to her tatter shirt. “My coat won’t cover all this and the sun is pretty high in the sky. We could wait until night, but that’s a long time to sit in a puddle of blood.”

Hancock nodded. After a moment’s thought, he removed his coat and pulled up his white ruffled shirt over his head.

“Whoa whoa! Wait a minute!” Payne averted her eyes. “What are you doing?!”

“You need a shirt, so unless you have a spare, I suggest you put this one on.” He held it out to her.

“I can’t believe I am doing this…” She gingery took the shirt from his hand. She could feel her face getting red. She couldn’t help but see him standing there, just inches from her, half naked. Payne felt her pulse rate rise. Unfortunately it also sent painful throbs through her knee with every beat.

Hancock put his coat back on as Payne turned around. She removed her own coat, then stripping off her tattered blood stained shirt, dropped it on the sticky floor with a sickening plop. Hancock studied the curves of her back as she slid into his shirt out of the corner of his eye.

“This looks ridiculous!” it was obvious in the way that the fabric clung awkwardly to her body that the garment was not designed for a woman’s body.

Hancock snickered. “Looks damn good from here!” Payne halfheartedly slapped at him before putting back on her coat and helmet.

She rearranged the antique ruffles, trying to cover as much skin as possible, when a sudden realization hit her. She grasped at her neck. “Where is it?” she cried, panic seeping into her voice. She started frantically sifting through the gore on the floor. “Where is it??”

“Where is what?”

“My necklace… where is it?!” Payne slammed on her helmet and threw the door wide. She bounded out before Hancock could offer to help her. Ignoring the pain screaming from her leg, she searched the ground before her. Unable to withstand the abuse heaped upon it, her knee collapsed, sending her painfully to the pavement.

Hancock stopped her by sitting her gently down on the curb. On a line high above, a few crows studied the seen quizzically, occasionally cawing.

“It’s the one with the blue star bottle cap, right?”

Payne nodded and chewed her lip. She couldn’t lose it now, not after all this time. Her mind frantically jumped around in a panic. After a few minutes, Hancock happened to kick a mound of debris. The wheel tracks embossed on the top of the gravel disintegrated to reveal a faint blue glow underneath. He pulled the flattened cap and chain from the dirt. He couldn’t see Payne’s reaction through her helmet, but her shoulders sank as he handed it to her. She held it tightly in her shaking hands before finally storing it away in a back pocket. She stood up, swaying on her bad leg.

“Let’s go.” She sniffed.


	16. Toaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making their way back to Goodneighbor to find a surprise the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am debating on putting titles on my chapters now... but I have to think of some.

[(Original Post)](https://antiquechampagne.tumblr.com/post/179313019245/chapter-16-toaster)

Payne limped along as far as she could before she asked Hancock to stop. They took a breather in what looked to be a tiny old diner. Payne sat in a booth while Hancock looked around. He returned from behind the counter a few minutes later with a Nuka and some snacks.

Hancock popped a Mentat in his mouth as he munched on 200 year old crisps.

“So… does any kind of blood do the trick for you? Or does it have to be people blood?”

Payne really didn’t want to talk about herself, especially not this. She tried to avoid his stare but across the table Hancock’s eyes studied her with his deep black eyes. He sat back, reclining a bit, with his arm thrown over the back of the booth. His coat had fallen open; reminding Payne that she was wearing his shirt.

 _Christ_ , thought Payne.

“You really want to know?”

Hancock nodded.

“Why?”

“If we are in a pinch again, I need to know how to help you.” He took a sip. “Why are you giving me that look?”

“I figured after all this and seeing me…” she bit her lip. “Well, I figured you wouldn’t be particularly keen on keeping me around.”

“Seriously? You stood between me and a fucking deathclaw with the equivalent of a peashooter! Then you kept us hidden from some kind of robot death parade. That’s kinda what you look for in a good body guard, sister.” Hancock could see Payne wasn’t convinced. “You saved my neck twice and it nearly cost you your life. Why?”

Payne was caught off guard by this reversal. She said the first thought that popped into her brain. “Because you are worth saving.”

Hancock nodded. “And what makes you think you aren’t?” Payne swallowed hard. She had no answer for that. “Look, everyone has their fair share of problems. Take it from me; a guy who was so disgusted by who he saw in the mirror, one day he decided to turn himself into a ghoul to get away from it.”

Looking up at him, Payne tried to imagine him as he may have looked like when he was human and failed. How could he be anything but the confident deadly charismatic leader sitting across from her?

 _But everyone has a past._ She reminded herself.

Steeling herself, she took a quick breath and began. “Drinking human blood is always the best bet. It heals up just about anything. Animal blood, dog, cat, mammals, are the next.”

She paused, studying his body language. “Super mutant blood…”

“Hold up! You’ve have super mutant blood? Does it turn you green and veiny?”

“Umm… no.” Put off by his eagerness to know more, she paused to collect her thoughts. “It makes me feel really weird. I get agitated and extremely hungry, and not in the _‘need some munchies’_ way. Believe me, you don’t want to be around me when I am _that_ hungry.”

“Speaking of that, what about ghoul blood?” he waved his hands in front of him. “Not that I am volunteering.”

“You don’t have too… ghoul blood, frankly tastes nasty, like sewage. Plus it doesn’t actually seem to do anything for me. No offense.” Hancock put a hand daintily to his chest, feigning outrage.

Payne laughed.

“How about synths?”

Payne shrugged. “I have no idea. To my knowledge, synths don’t exist outside of the Boston area. And if I have had any synth blood unknowingly… I haven’t noticed a difference. It’s not like I can run a taste test.” Payne narrowed her eyes in thought. “Radscorpion blood is something different all together though. It’s similar to what I remember Psycho being like…” she shook her head.

“And here I thought you never had any fun!”

Payne smiled wryly. After a silent moment, she looked at Hancock quizzically.

“What now?” he said.

“What color was your hair?” Payne tilted her head.

“Long and light blond… to go with my dashing good looks.” He playfully swept his none existent locks off his shoulders like in a prewar shampoo ad. “Drove the ladies mad all across the Commonwealth. You should have seen me.”

Payne squinted her eyes. “If you say so.” She shrugged. “I can’t imagine you with hair… blond or otherwise. Did you grow up with such a ridiculous fashion sense, too?”

“Nah, this Hancock getup is a recent addition. I cant imagine Fallon’s carrying anything so _avant garde_ as original as John Hancock’s duds. Too political. You have to say, though, it fits the job.”

Payne nodded. She cautiously rose from the booth and tested her leg. “Time to get moving, don’t you think?”

The picked their way back towards Goodneighbor, avoiding enemy nests as best they could. While sneaking past a camp of raiders Payne stepped and shifted a loose piece of concrete, twisting her knee painfully. Hancock slipped his arm around her waist and helped her limp home the rest of the way.

As they finally turned the corner and saw Goodneighbor’s neon light, the sun had started to set. Payne hesitated.

Hancock cocked his head. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m still wearing your shirt and you’re practically naked.”

“Do you really think that is the most compromising way I have walked into town?”

Payne smiled and shook her head. “Good point.”

Upon walking through the door, several guards rushed up to them offering to help. Hancock waved them off. Setting Payne down on a bench, he headed over to Daisy. Payne studied her tender knee, poking and prodding to see what hurt the most.  Soon he returned, holding something behind his back and a devilish smirk plastered on his face.

“Got you a little thank you gift for saving my ass out there.” He could hardly keep still. Payne arched an eyebrow. “Ta da!”

Hancock proudly produced a faded pink t-shirt, a jovial cartoon Giddyup Buttercup printed garishly on the front. Payne gave Hancock a stone-faced death glare.

Hancock howled with laughter, startling a few nearby crows who took flight. Daisy walked up behind him and gave him a playful punch in the shoulder. “Quit being as ass, Mr. Mayor.”

“Here.” She tossed a black turtleneck into Payne’s lap. “That’s much more your style. And with it getting a bit colder, it should help keep you warm.” She sat down on the bench. “Hancock said you tried to take on a deathclaw and got shredded.” Payne nodded affirmatively. “Thanks for saving him, even if he has a horrible sense of humor.”

“Bah! I’m just having a little bit of fun!” Hancock made a sarcastic pout.

“You don’t pay her enough to take on deathclaws AND listen to your jokes!”

“And save his butt from a bunch of army grade hardware!” Payne nudged Daisy with her elbow.

“Really?” Daisy asked skeptically.

Hancock nodded. “Yeah, some kind of new robot-loving gang’s in town. Bad news.” He briefly furrowed his brow in thought. “Gotta get someone on that.” He said under his breath.

Daisy gave Payne a quick hug. “Then give this gal a raise!”

After saying goodbye to Daisy, Hancock helped her make it to her room in the hotel. She was extremely grateful for his help navigating the several flights of stairs. Sitting down on the bed, Payne yawned. She didn’t realize how exhausted she was.

“I’ll bring your shirt back to you tomorrow, okay?” Payne tried hard not to stretch.

“Aren’t you afraid of what the neighbors might think?” Hancock feigned mortification, his hands sarcastically held to his lips.

Payne grinned. “Then wear that pink monstrosity home.” Her eyes danced as they both chuckled.

As the ghoul turned to leave, Payne spoke. “Hancock?” He turned back to see her grin replaced with a worried expression. “Please don’t tell anyone about… you know…”

“Don’t worry about it, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Payne sighed as he shut the door behind him as he left.

She placed the black turtleneck on the bed beside her. _Mom always said I wore too much black_ she thought. Her fingers absently ran through the ruffles of the white linen shirt she wore, a stark contrast to the rest of her dark wardrobe.

She slowly took off her traveling clothes and boots. As her hands passed over her rear pants pocket, she realized they were both empty.

Payne’s heart sank. The crushed bottle cap must have fallen out somewhere in the ruins. Sighing hopelessly, she slid into bed, still wearing Hancock’s shirt. Her exhausted body ushering her to sleep nearly as soon as she hit the pillow.

She didn’t wake until well past noon the next day. She quickly changed and headed to see Hancock, shirt in hand. When she reached his office, she couldn’t help but smile. There he stood, leaning against the wall, drink in hand while reading a newspaper, dressed in his three corner hat, coat and pink pony shirt.

“God, you’re an ass!” Payne playfully balled up and threw his white ruffled frock to him. “At least you can try to match!”

“I don’t know about West, but here, most folks can’t afford to be little fashionistas!”

Payne turned away as he quickly changed.

“Take a look at the table.” Hancock motioned to the pile of papers with a pair of bloody cards perched on top. She picked them up, inspecting the black, white and red Silver Shroud printed on them. “Looks like someone was out playing dress up while we were away.”

“What happened?”

“Our guys found them two days apart. The first was found with the body of Wayne Delancy behind the Rexford right after we left. Guy was a lousy slime ball, rumor around town is murdered some people. The next was found by Bobbi’s old place. You heard of AJ?”

“Just in passing… isn’t he a chem dealer?”

“Well, he _was_ a chem dealer. Looks like someone didn’t like the fact that he had started selling to kids. Offed him and his bodyguards. And those cards” He jabbed at them with a withered finger. “Point suspicion to The Silver Shoud.”

Payne thought for a moment. “While I know Kent is obsessed with bringing justice back or whatever, I really don’t think he is up to this kind of work.”

“Me neither… but Vault Boy on the other hand…”

“He did fit in the costume well, didn’t he?” Hancock arched a non-existent eyebrow. “That’s not what I meant… anyway, do you want me to go over and see what I can weasel out of Kent?”

Hancock glanced up at the door behind Payne. “There might not be any need to.” In walked Nate with a particular looking companion in tow. He wore a threadbare tan trench coat and fedora. His most striking feature was his torn grey skin with metallic machinery beneath.

“Well, isn’t it the Vault-Tec popsicle and Diamond City’s favorite circuit board, Nick Valentine.” There was a slight shift in Hancock’s demeanor when he addressed them. Payne noticed and studied them both a bit harder.

The newcomer raised a cigarette to his lips, a skeletal metal hand flicking open a rusty lighter. “Hancock.” Was all he head dryly.

“Nick and I are going to be in town for a while. We are hoping Dr. Amari can help in locating my son.” His eyes flicked back and forth between the mayor and the detective. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“No, not if you can answer a question. Are you hitting baddies dressed up as the Shroud in my town?”

“You never were one to beat around the bush, were you John?” His strange glowing yellow eyes stoked Payne’s curiosity.

“Still only sticking your neck out when it is convenient for you?” Hancock bit back.

Nate tried to cool things off. “Hey Hey! It’s fine. Yes, Hancock. I’m doing helping Kent out. Is that a problem?”

“Nah, we don’t have a problem. I only have a problem with trouble makers, and Nicky here…” He stuck his thumb in Valentine’s direction. “He’s a good boy at following the rules.”

“Keep going, Hancock…”

Nate put a hand on Nick’s chest, guiding him out of the room. “Come on Nick, let’s go.”

Once they were gone, Payne poured them both a double shot of whiskey. Handing it over to Hancock, she asked, “What was that all about? You two have history?”

They sat across from each other on the worn sofas. Hancock knocked back the glass, roughly setting the chipped shot glass down on the wooden table. As he spoke, he twisted it idly.

“You could say that. He didn’t agree with my methods to try and save the ghouls in Diamond City… mainly in that he did absolutely nothing to stop it.” Narrowing his gaze, his black eyes burned. “I tried everything I could think of to stop McDonough… debates, signs, logic, speeches, going door to door… anything to try and get them to remember that they were voting to throw their friends and neighbors to the dogs. And what does that glorified toaster do? _Nothing._ He just sat in his fucking office and watched it happen. He pretends to be good, taking on their dirty work they don’t want to do, trying to get in their good graces because of what he is… But that doesn’t matter! He should have at least spoke out, some of them they might have listened. Instead, he closed his door as security ripped his neighbor away from her home and pointed a gun at her when she tried to get back in.”

Payne took the glass from his grip; he had started to dig into the wood, leaving a gouge.

“Her name was Rita and she was the cobbler. She was a younger ghoul and hadn’t really ever lived on her own. She was dead in a few days.” He lowered his head. “Fucking radroaches. RADROACHES! She didn’t even fire a shot!” He slammed his fist on the table.

“It matters how you treat people… The good, the troubled, the weak… _It matters_!”

Payne placed her hand over his fist, squeezing it gently. He looked up in surprise.

“Yes. Yes it does.” Payne said evenly but meaningfully.

Hancock’s face softened. “Yeah, well… shit. We got stuff to do today.”

Little did Payne know that work today would involve going around and collecting Hancock’s cut from the local merchants while he got high.

“If I come back and find you cowering in a corner _again_ , we are going to have a little talk.” Payne wagged her finger sarcastically in his direction. “I’m not chasing off flying molerats for you again.”

“Yes, _mom_!” he barked back as she headed off.

She hadn’t realized how hungry she had become until she stepped out on the street. I was well past lunch at this point. The caps could wait. Payne headed down to grab a bite at The Third Rail.


	17. Voices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of brain diving.

[(Original Post)](https://antiquechampagne.tumblr.com/post/179586316395/chapter-17-voices)

 

Walking down the stairs, Payne could hear Magnolia crooning long before she reached the landing. As she crossed to the bar, she spotted Nick Valentine at a table smoking a cigarette, listening. Grabbing a Cram sandwich from Charley, Payne headed over.

“May I?” she asked.

Nick motioned to the chair next to him; never taking his glowing yellow eyes off the stage. “Did John send you to keep tabs on me?”

“No. Should he?”

Valentine huffed. Payne patiently ate her food, waiting until Magnolia took a breather to try to break the ice.

“So it seems you two have locked horns before.”

“You don’t say.” Nick replied dryly. “I wonder how you got that impression.”

“Hancock told me his version. I was wondering if I could get yours.”

“What is there to tell? He fought to keep the ghouls in Diamond City. I couldn’t afford such a luxury, much to his infuriation. It’s not that I agreed with McDonough... far from it. But I can’t exactly hide the fact that I am a synth living in a human city, complete with a healthy fear of the Institute.” He snubbed his cigarette out. “I kept my nose out of it to save my own hide. I’m not proud of that fact but we both did what we felt we had to do at the time. Now, I am still helping people that need it… and he is too. We just do it in different ways.”

“Were you guys close before?”

“John was one of the first people in Diamond City to treat me like a person and not some kind of threat.” Nick scowled. “Look, I know why John holds a grudge against me, and from a certain point of view, maybe he is right. He’s not really one to let those kind of grudges go either. So I stay away from Goodneighbor as much as I can.”

“But you are back now?” Payne motioned for Charley to bring her another drink.

“Yeah, Nate saved my can in a big way, so I am trying to repay the debt. If I can help him find his son, then it is worth ruffling Hancock’s feathers.”

“Nate’s a good guy.”

“He is. He deserves to find out what happened to his boy.”

“Mind if I ask you something else?”

“Mind if I don’t answer?” Nick retorted.

Payne shrugged. “Fair enough. Now, I haven’t been in Boston for very long… but I haven’t heard of a synth that looks or acts like you do.”

Valentine rolled his eyes. “I’ll take that as a compliment. From as far as I can tell, I am the only one like me they ever made. A failed Institute experiment, I suppose. Thrown out like trash when they were done poking and prodding.”

Nate appeared at the bottom of the stairs and headed over to their table.

“Nick… Dr. Amari took a look and said that piece of Kellogg’s brain might just work. She just about done prepping.” Nate paused. “Nick, you know you don’t have to do this. We could try and find another way.” Nate looked worried.

“If there is another way, I’m all ears, but we are running out of options. Unless you know some other way into the Institute… It’s worth the risk.”

Nick tipped his hat to Payne as he followed Nate out. Payne finished her drink and headed back to the bar. There was work to do and taxes weren’t going to collect themselves.

Taking her time and chatting, Payne returned to the state house a few hours later. Irma has been pretty tight lipped about what ever Nate and Nick were doing in the basement, but Daisy enjoyed talking her ear off about the new books Nate had dropped off from the library.

Fahrenheit leaned against the wall as Payne walked up, fingers massaging her temples.

“How is he?” Payne asked.

“Angsty.” Fahr replied.

“Great. Think company will make him better or worse?”

“Who knows…”

Payne gave her a knowing pat on the shoulder as she passed into the building. She found Hancock brooding in the office, standing behind a couch, arms braced against the back. His stance reminded Payne of a CEO scowling down at his lackeys across a board room table.

“Well, aren’t you just a ray of sunshine.” Payne sassed at him as she tossed the satchel full of caps on the couch.

Hancock grunted.

“You should stop stewing on it, you’ll get wrinkles.” A corner of Hancock’s lips started to curl into a smile. “And grey hair.” He shook his head as his smile continues to grow.

“Damn it, Payne. I was trying real hard to look all broody and you just had to go and fuck that up, didn’t you?”

“I can’t have you stealing my act… gloomy and dark is my bag.”

He leapt over the back of the couch, landing deftly on the red cushions. “So, get into any trouble while you were gallivanting around town with my money?”

“Nothing so grand. I did snag a quick lunch down in the bar… with Valentine.” The scowl returned to his face. “I wanted to see what he had to say.”

“And…?”

“He basically agreed with you. He didn’t try and stop the ghouls from being evicted because he was afraid the crowd would turn on him next” Hancock’s expression changed to one of validation. Before he could get a word in, Payne continued. “And he feels horrible about it.” Hancock’s face slowly fell.

“Besides, I don’t envy whatever Amari is trying to help Nate find his boy. Sounds like it involved hooking Valentine up to one of those pods and trying to read some dead guys brain.”

“Why would they need to do that?” Hancock had a clear distaste for what might be happening in his town.

“Guess this Kellogg guy knows something about the Institute? I didn’t really catch much.”

Hancock rose to his feet. “Kellogg? Did you say Kellogg?”

Payne sat back, confused. “Yeah… they have a piece of his brain at least. Why?”

“Kellogg is… was an enforcer for the Institute. A cold blooded killer the Institute uses when coursers couldn’t be risked. And they killed him?” Hancock’s mind kicked into gear. “If they want to put that murderer’s brain or memory into Valentine, which could be very bad.”

Hancock grabbed his coat and hat, heading out the door with Payne in tow. Fahrenheit barely managed a “What?” as they passed. Payne shrugged in her direction before waving her to follow. As they trotted down the street, Payne filled her in briefly.

Once inside the Memory Den, Hancock headed towards the back, intending to go straight down stairs into the basement before Irma rose from her dais intercepted him.

“Honey, just where do you think you are going?” She eyed Payne and Fahrenheit suspiciously.

“Just a little mayoral business.”

“John, you can’t go down there right now!” Irma positioned her body between Hancock and the stairs leading down.

“Irma, I know what’s going on and…

Before he could finish, behind Irma, Nate appeared helping Valentine up the stairs.

Nate looked up confused. “Irma, what’s all this about?”

“You should have told me what you were planning on doing!” Hancock interrupted. Nate and Hancock started arguing, but Payne watched Valentine as he wobbled uneasily to a couch across the room. She stepped closer to him.

“Are you okay, Nick?” He didn’t answer, but sat there robotically.

Fahrenheit noticed her attention was not on the spat. She nodded her head towards Valentine, silently questioning Payne while keeping an eye on her agitated employer.

Payne shrugged. She had no idea what was going on, but something felt off.

Nate broke away from Hancock and strode towards Nick. “Nick…”

Nick turned and locked eyes with Nate. A gravely sinister voice answered him, freezing nearly everyone in the room. “Hope you got what you were looking for inside my head.” Payne drew her weapon, aiming it at Valentine. The horrid voice laughed. “I was right; I should have killed you when you were on ice.”

“Kellogg, is that you?” Nate answered.

“What?” Nick’s normal voice had returned. “What are you talking about?”

Hancock drew closer. “Are you feeling alright Nick?” Valentine looked confused. “You didn’t sound like yourself. You sounded like…”

“Kellogg.” Nate finished his thought.

“Did I?” Valentine looked around, his hand rubbing his forehead. Seeing Payne with her pistol trained on him, he slowly put his hands at his side. “Amari said there might be some “mnemonic impressions” left over… anyway, I feel fine. Let’s get going.”

Hancock put a hand out. “Nick, You’re not going anywhere until I am sure you are okay.”

“Never thought you would get all soft over me after all this time.” Valentine crossed his arms.

“I’m not, Tinman, but if you have a stowaway up there from whatever you did downstairs, I’m gunna make sure you aren’t a danger to anyone.” He turned to Fahrenheit. “Make sure Mr. Valentine is comfortable during his stay.”

“Now I have to have a chaperone? Really, John?” Valentine was less than thrilled with the situation he now found himself in.

“Call it what you want, but try anything funny or start acting like someone other than your jovial old self, you are going to find yourself in a world of hurt.”

Nate put a hand on Valentine’s shoulder. “We’ll get going soon.”

Fahrenheit saddled next to Nick. “Come on, Nick. Play nice.”

“You’re always a woman of few words, aren’t you Fahr?”

She grunted as Nick rose and headed towards the door. “I’ll be down listening to Magnolia if anyone cares.”

Hancock turned to Nate. “We have some things to discuss. Irma, be a dear. Please get Dr. Amari and have her join us in my office please?”

Payne spent the most of the rest of the night listening to Hancock, Nate and Dr. Amari argue over the state of Valentine’s metal health and how much of danger he could be both to Nate and Goodneighbor, but also to Diamond City and possibly the Commonwealth if Kellogg somehow took over Nick’s mind. Would that mean the Institute would be in control of Nick? Amari insisted that Valentine just needed some rest from the strain of the procedure.

They also learned what Kellogg’s mind had told them. In the the Glowing Sea there was some ex-Institute scientist name Virgil. He had escaped both the Institute and Kellogg. If he got out, then Nate supposed he might convince him to sneak him in to rescue his son. Payne just sat back and watched as tempers flared and cooled.

“How in the hell do you think you can survive in the Glowing Sea? The place is practically made of radiation. You’ll be either throwing up your guts or glowing within an hour!” Hancock had calmed enough he felt good enough to pop a few Mentats.

Nate countered. “I have a decent power armor that can help with that.” Payne scowled. “And I have the prefect guy for the job; rads don’t affect him at all. I just have to go pick him up.”

“You better not mean the boss there.” Payne wasn’t about to let Hancock get wrapped up in this mess, especially if that involved a place she couldn’t go.

“No.” Nate turned to Payne. “I have a guy. He’s helping out at The Slog right now. My power armor there too. I just have to drop Nick off at Diamond City and head out there. Nick can take it easy and your town will be out of any harm’s way.”

Hancock thought for a moment. “How about this; tomorrow Payne and I will escort the two of you to Diamond City. You drop Nick off, and we can make sure you get to The Slog in one piece. You pick up your armor and your ‘guy’, maybe we throw a little party, then take off on our separate ways.”

Nate mulled the offer over. “Sure, the more the merrier, I suppose.”

He looked over at Payne. “You ever been there?” Payne shook her head _no_. “Great. It’s decided.”

After Nate left to collect Nick for the night, Payne turned to Hancock.

“You aren’t just worried about Goodneighbor, are you? You are worried about Valentine too.”

Hancock stopped. “Yeah, maybe. Nick and I were friends for a while, before all that bad blood stuff. It just wouldn’t be right to have some murdering Institute bastard highjack in his brain.”

Payne squeezed his shoulder as she passed him to leave. There was a lot to get around before tomorrow morning.

“You’re a good guy, Hancock.”

“Maybe… just don’t go and tell everyone, okay? Gotta keep my bad boy image.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh! I am running out of photos!


	18. City Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Facing the not-so-welcoming wagon at Diamond City.

[(Original Post)](https://antiquechampagne.tumblr.com/post/179863979150/chapter-18-city-blues)

Early the next morning, they all gathered outside the Old State House. Valentine and Hancock avoided each other as they group did their last gear checks, Nick standing off by Nate while Hancock updated Fahrenheit on his plans.

“I can handle this, boss.” She chided. “Go have some fun! Give Wiseman my regards.” Hancock nodded.

The steel door creaked noisily as they opened it, startling some lethargic crooked crows. They loudly voiced their displeasure as the group headed south west. Once they passed Swan’s pond, they spread out, casually picking their way towards Diamond City. Conversation was nonexistent, leaving a tense silence between everyone.

Payne caught Nate’s attention. “Why don’t you take point. I’ll watch the rear.”

Nate seemed to get the clue. “Good idea.” He said. As he passed Nick, he heartily patted him on the back. Payne hung back, letting Hancock walk in front.

“Seriously?” Hancock shot back, but it was too late. Payne shrugged.

For a few minutes the tension between Nick and Hancock simmered, neither acknowledging the other’s presence.

“I think we might have been a victim of a conspiracy here, Hancock.” Nick said gruffly.

Hancock grimaced. “Something like that.” They walked on silently, neither wanting to concede.

Finally, Valentine continued. “So… why did you come along? I can’t imagine you took time out of your busy schedule just to play baby sitter.”

“This isn’t my idea of a nice vacation, either. But…” He paused. “I want to make sure you make it back to Diamond City in one Valentine-only piece.”

“Don’t worry about it, John. Amari ran the diagnostics three times this morning. There isn’t anything else left of Kellogg in my noggin.”

“You should know I want to see the proof of the fact with my own eyes. What better way than a leisurely stroll through the city?” Hancock finally looked Nick in the face. “I know we haven’t spoken in… what? 5 years? But we were friends before that. You do good work for people who have no one else to turn too. Having the possibility of someone else taking over your mind just isn’t right, ya feel me?”

A sad smile finally cracked Valentine’s sour façade. “I feel you, John.”

“Okay now!” Hancock obnoxiously raised his voice. “You all happy now? We talked and all that jazz!”

Payne snickered as she closed the distance. “You want to say that any louder, boss? Not like we might be trying to avoid raiders or anything.”

“No worries about that, Dream Girl. We are already here.”

Almost on cue, they turned a corner to find themselves walking down a street lined with guard posts and turrets, white diamonds painted boldly across empty brick walls. Upon entering a wide square with a bronze statue brandishing a baseball bat, Hancock slowed. Nate turned around to find Hancock sitting on the statue’s stone base, lighting up a cigarette. A few of the guards shifted uneasily.

“Aren’t you coming inside?”

“I have a feeling I’m still not welcome… and for more than just because of my pretty face.” He took a long drag. “Take care of yourself, Detective. I don’t want to hear that they had to replace you with a newer model.”

“Unlikely. They just don’t make ’em like they used to anymore. Take care, Hancock.” Nick tipped his hat as he continued inside.

“I’ll be back in a few.” Nate said. “You coming?” he turned to Payne.

Payne nodded. “Nope.” Nate left them with a reluctant wave.

Hancock cocked his brow. “You sure? Eventually they will find out that you pal around with me. There’s a chance you won’t be welcome after that.”

Payne shrugged. “I’m your body guard. I wouldn’t be very effective from inside a walled city.” She had started to notice more guards appearing, failing to look inconspicuous.

“Go on, I’ll be fine.”

Payne propped herself on the statue, her back facing Hancock’s. “Nah. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

She studied the guards. It was an oddity to see matching uniforms on guards, most people just wore whatever they happened to come across or cobble together. These guards all sported matching baseball padding and equipment. Some even twirled bats in their hands. It was almost comical to see, but Payne thought it made the most sense since they lived in an old baseball stadium. A few of them seemed to be chatting among themselves, pointing in their direction but they all kept their distance.

“You think these guys might try and start something?” Payne leaned back, speaking under her breath.

Ever the picture of nonchalance, Hancock hooked the heel of his boot on the ledge of the dais. “They know better, but if we give them a reason to drag us off to lock up, they will be more than happy to act.”

A sort of silent standoff commenced, the guards watching them for any sign of hostility. Payne and Hancock appeared to relax indifferently, surveying the crowd as well as the city’s crumbling facades surrounding the square.

Nothing much happened for about an hour. From within the entryway, Payne noticed a few guards arguing. She nudged Hancock’s elbow with hers, drawing his attention to the growing ruckus.

A single guard broke away from the group and started walking towards the statue. Payne started to shift, her hand reaching for a weapon. Hancock signaled with a quick nod to relax.

“Danny, you don’t know how to have any fun!” he called back to the group. He deftly swung his bat in idle arcs.

“Damn it, Kevin, get back here! Don’t start anything! Mayor McDonough…”

“McDonough isn’t out here, is he? So shut the fuck up!” He strolling with headstrong bravado right up to Hancock. He looked down with a wicked calculating smile, his bat resting lightly on his broad shoulder. Hancock ignored him, finishing a long drag on his cigarette.

“So, what brings the great _mayor_ Hancock out from his little radroach nest, huh? Did you want to remember what a real city is like?” A few snickers broke out. Kevin swayed back and forth, playing to the crowd.

Hancock coolly took his time snubbing out his smoke on the base of the statue, leaving an ashy smudge behind, before turning his gaze up to meet Kevin’s sneering face.

“Just making sure some friends made it back here in one piece. There’s no need for all this.”

“Ha, a corpse like you don’t have friends, much less friends in Diamond City.”

“Watch it.” Payne warned, her arms crossed.

“Calm down, buddy. See, your muscle here can’t even show their face when they defend your ass.” Kevin looked Payne up and down. “But then again, maybe they’re just another rotten zombie playing human.”

Payne swiftly stood, her balled hands falling defiantly to her sides.

“Playing human indeed.” Payne let her voice fall, her words smooth and pregnant with the promise of violence. She found herself looking down as she felt Hancock’s hand cover hers.

“You’ve had your fun.” Called Danny from the crowd. “That’s enough.”

“Oh come on! Aren’t you curious to find out if what they say about ghouls? That once their noses rot off so does everything else!” Kevin pointed his bat towards Hancock’s bottom half and snickered. “Let’s take a look!” The guard started to circle closer, his eyes narrowing predatorily.

That was enough for Payne. She positioned herself between him and Hancock, one hand hovering over her knife, the other over her pistol. Luckily, her helmet covered the fact that she was scanning the crowd for guards likely to join the fray. This was going south, quickly.

“Are you not getting enough loving at home that you are becoming obsessed with little ol’ me? I’m flattered.” Hancock flashed his Cheshire grin.

 _You are not helping!_ Payne would have rolled her eyes if they weren’t plastered on the guards reddened face before her. Kevin’s hands twisted as he tightened his grip on the bat.

“You fucking freak!” Kevin shifted his weight back, winding back.

“ _STAND DOWN!_ ”

Everyone seemed to freeze. The security forces stepped back, making way for another man striding past them. They looked back and forth nervously as he passed. He did not look remarkable to Payne save his bushy beard, but it was clear he was some kind of commanding officer. Danny trailed behind him, followed by Nate and woman in a dark red trench coat.

 “What the fuck is going on here? Explain yourself!”

“Nothing… Leo.” Kevin suddenly didn’t seem to have a lot to say. “Just making sure no one starts any trouble.”

“That’s Captain.” He glared at Kevin. “And do you really think that assaulting civilians is allowable?”

“Come on, I didn’t mean nothing by it. He’s just a dirty ghoul! He’s not allowed…”

“Inside! He’s not allowed _inside_. Even then, you are to escort a non-hostile ghouls outside. Worse than that, you really want to start something with the mayor of Goodneighbor? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Kevin was turning beet red, the sting of his public undressing burning beneath his skin.

“This is rich coming from you, defending that pile of brahmin shit town. You get promoted, what? Like three months ago.. and suddenly you gotta push the rest of us around?”

“Enough! Get inside and I will deal with this insubordination myself. The rest of you, return to you posts. NOW!” The captain turned to Hancock and Payne. “I’m sorry about all this. You are free to peacefully stay in the square.” He eyed Payne’s hands, still tight on her weapons.

“No need. We were just leaving.” Hancock walked over to Nate and the woman.

“Man, that was nasty, wasn’t it?” The woman looked glad that the altercation appeared to be over.

“Look who it is, my favorite Commonwealth reporter.” Hancock nodded at the woman and she scowled. “You along for the ride, Piper?”

“Yes, I am coming along. Nate owes me a bit more information. Still making trouble, I see. Thing’s don’t change, do they, Hancock?”

“You know you’ll be all over me for an exclusive about this later.”

She rolled her eyes. Stepping past him, she stuck out her hand. “Name’s Piper Wright, reporter for Publick Occurrences. The Commonwealth’s hardest hitting newspaper!”

“It’s the only paper, Piper.” Nate snickered.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not the best!” Piper shot back.

Introducing herself, Payne shook her hand and studied the scrappy woman.

“Be careful what you say around this woman, Payne. You might just find all your dirty laundry on the front page! Isn’t that right, Nate?” Hancock nudged him in the ribs.

“That’s not fair, I interviewed Nate fair and square!”

Nate looked at his Pipboy. “I think we need to get going if we are going to make time.”


	19. Fire Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes when you stir the fire, more than just embers fly out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update was so long coming... there has been a lot of sickness going around. In fact, I am recovering from the flu today (and our Thanksgiving was canceled because of it). I hope the wait was worth it.

[(Original Post)](https://antiquechampagne.tumblr.com/post/180385385000/chapter-19-fire-flight)

As the sun sank below the horizon, the group found themselves well into the wilderness between the city and their destination. They had made good time with little trouble, barring when they stumbling on a mole rat nest. After butchering the mole rats, they found the remains of a lone house. The first floor was mostly intact, save a few portions of the living room roof. The second floor had not fared as well. Nate constructed a cooking fire below an opening while the rest drug over anything useful for seating. Soon the smell of roasting meat filled the room.

“Man, I hadn’t realized how hungry I was!” Piper sat down next to Nate, eyeing the fat sizzling on the full spit.

Hancock returned from scavenging in the kitchen carrying a few jingling bottles. “Looky looky! Found a nice stash behind the fridge!” He passed the bottles around as he took a spot on an overturned trashcan.

A few minutes later Payne walked down the stairs. “The second floor isn’t much good for anything except keeping watch, maybe. As long as it doesn’t storm.” She found herself drawn to the delicious smells emanated from the living room, quickly finding a seat between Piper and Hancock. Safely inside and twilight falling, Payne removed her helmet and let her hair down. Hancock popped the cork on a dusty bottle of wine, downing a healthy swallow before handing it to Payne. Sniffing, Payne wrinkled her nose.

Payne scoffed before passing it on to Piper. “No thanks. 200 year old vinegar isn’t really my style.”

After a quick sniff, Piper took a quick sip. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

Nate pulled the meat off the fire. “Food’s done!”

Hancock grabbed a plate. “About damn time!”

Nate doled out dinner. As Payne shifted on the broken folding chair she was using the legs gave way, sending her tumbling to the floor. Instinct out a hand to slow her fall, unfortunately instinct thrust her hand onto the hot rocks ringing the fire pit.

“Damn it!” she cried, both from shock and pain.

Hancock tried but failed to hold a snicker. “Shit, are… are you alright?”

Payne motioned for him to sit back down. “Yeah, I’ll be find. Smarts is all.” She looked at her reddening skin, the layers starting to separate and fill with fluid. She shook it in frustration. “Give me back that bottle.”

Piper handed it over. Kicking the useless chair away, Payne opted to sit on the floor to eat.

In between bites, Piper grilled Nate on what he had been doing for the past few months, including his adventures as the Silver Shroud.

“You should have been there, Piper. Kent had a great time with both the Silver Shroud and Mistress of Mystery doting on him.” Nate motion across the fire. “She can dance up a storm!” Payne as she rolled her eyes and kept eating.

“Maybe at The Slog we can throw a welcoming party, have some fun! Did you know she can sing too?” Hancock added.

“Only if they have better booze.” Snorted Payne.

“Well, what else have you been up to, Nate?” Piper probed.

“You know that new radio broadcast? The old NukaWorld commercial?” Payne perked up. “Well, I’ve been there. The broadcast is just a trap to lure marks in. It’s filled to the brim with huge raider gangs. They took it over and enslaved the traders that lived there. It’s fucking nuts.”

“Those poor traders. Hey, if the broadcast is a trap… how did you get out?” Piper seemed ready to pounce.

“Ummm…” Nate squirmed.

“You gotta spill the beans now.” Hancock grinned. “You know Piper, she won’t quit until you fess up.”

“Well…” Nate grimaced. “I kinda killed their leader… and they made me take the job…”

“WHAT?!” Piper’s eyes grew large. “Blue! You are a lot of things, but a raider just isn’t one of them! How could you do this?” She looked about ready to throw him in the fire. “Does Preston know?!”

“Jesus, Piper! Of course not! And no, Preston doesn’t know. He doesn’t need to know. I’m not a raider… but I have to deal with the situation very carefully. I want to help the traders but the gangs have them in a strangle hold. I have to play along until I can get them out. Or do you think I should just go in, guns blazing, and kill them all?!”

“Well, I suppose not.” She seemed to settle down a bit. Piper gave a little sigh. “Blue, how do you get yourself into these things?”

“Hell if I know. They just seem to happen to me. Right place, right time… maybe?” Nate shrugged. “You should see it, Piper. I never got a chance to go before the war, Nora and I had always hoped to take Shaun there when he got older, but the place is still impressive after two hundred plus years. The raiders actually have some of the areas up and running. They’ve got an arcade, bar… they turned an old bumper car ride into a combat arena. Hell, my ‘apartment’ towers over the park in an old restaurant that you can see the whole park. Most of the individual theme parks are overrun with nasties. You should see the crickets out there.” Nate shook his head. “Tough is an understatement. If the raiders weren’t there, it could be one hell of a city.”

“Sounds like quite a lot of work.” Hancock seemed impressed.

Nate nodded in agreement. “The raiders don’t deserve such a place.”

Dinner conversation continued, with Piper probing Nate about life before the bombs fell. Payne ignored most of the converwsation and watched the fire until Piper brought up that Nate have served.

“What was it like, Blue? Did you actually fight, in the war, I mean?”

“I joined the army right out of high school, wanted to do my part. A lot of kids did. Some did it for country, others to feel a part of something bigger, maybe believing they were doing some good.” Nate shook his head. “I got through basic training and was placed in the 108th Infantry, 2nd Battalion. Learned a lot about how to pilot and maintain power armor there. A lot of the work was shit, though. Command seemed to bounce us between combat zones, but there was a lot of boring down time between.”

“How did you handle it? Other people?” Piper asked.

“Other people?” Nate paused momentarily. “It’s strange. I have a hard time remembering their names sometimes, but I remember faces.  We lost many good people in battles with the Chinese, but a few of us made it home in one piece. We made it through somehow, then had to find ways to fit back in with everyone. It wasn’t easy, but you make it work. One thing I gotta say about the whole experience; I got to get to know a whole lot of people from all over. I remember guys from Irvine, California... Kalamazoo, Michigan… even Las Vegas, Nevada.”

He shot a glance over to Payne. She had her head down, staring at her plate. “Ya don’t say.” Payne barely moved, her knuckles turning while as her hands grasped her plate.

Nate didn’t seem to notice.

“Jeeze, what was that guy’s name from Vegas? Allen? Aaron? I can’t remember.”

Payne suddenly stood. She stammered something unintelligible before bolting out the door. Everyone glanced around bewildered.

After a few moments, Hancock stood. “Well, I guess I’ll go see what the problem is. Probably just a bit of bad meat.”

He found her by a tree across the cul-de-sac, anxiously pacing. Calmly he sat down on a near by log and popped a pill into his mouth. Payne didn’t acknowledge his presence but slowed her pacing.

“So, what was his name?” Hancock asked coolly.

Swiftly Payne turned to him, her eyes filled with fury. She opened her mouth to say something, but just as quickly turned back. Before she could hide it, Hancock had seen pain and shame flash across her face. She was fighting something, but she was too scared to share.

“Part of me didn’t expect to see you out here. The way that you took off, I figured there was a good chance you had high tailed it back to Vegas.” Hancock pulled out a bottle of beer, opened it and placed it on the ground, opening an invitation.

Payne’s mind indeed raced, fighting itself. Part of her screamed at her to run, far and fast, that these people knew too much and were asking the dangerous kinds of questions. To hide in the shadows, to erase all signs of her passing, this was the way to survive. It even whispered to slaughter the lot and burn the bodies, ensuring no one would follow her. To survive was to be invisible. This part of her had kept her safe for so long, it was easy to listen to, to follow its reasoning. And yet…

Another part of her had grown stronger over the past few months since she found herself in Goodneighbor and under Hancock’s employ. The part of her that longed for connection, needed meaningful contact had started to counter the need for seclusion. It was dangerous, for someone to know this much about her, but after so long shouldering her burden alone, she longed for a release, if only for a moment.

Payne looked at the bottle, then at Hancock’s wrinkled face before picking it up while sitting down next to him. _This is a mistake!_ Part of her brain screamed. _And I don’t care_. She replied to it.

“How did you know?” she said quietly after a few swallows.

“Doesn’t everyone lie about their age as some point?” Payne shot him a look. “You explained away most of the stuff easily enough, but really it was Tommy at the Combat Zone. He recognized you… from before the war.”

Payne thought as she took another swig and nodded. Not much she could have done about that.

“Aden. Nate was trying to remember my brother’s name. Aden. He signed up thinking he could help save the world, but after two tours returned a broken shadow of who he was. He refused to talk to us about what happened, wouldn’t talk to the army docs either. Mom and I tried what we could, but he kept withdrawing further and further from the world, from us. I guess it was only inevitable, but one day mom was called to an emergency at work, leaving me to watch Aden. It was pretty early in the morning, so when he actually asked from some Sugar Bombs for breakfast, I was surprised. Every meal had become an argument by that point, so to see him interested in eating was a welcome change… but…” Payne’s demeanor changed, the muscles in her neck taught, her jaw clenched. Instinctively, her hand went to her neck, dropping once she remembered her missing necklace “We were out of milk. I didn’t want to leave him alone, but it would only be a few minutes to run to the store. Aden said he would take a shower while I was gone. ‘Not to worry about him.’ Looking back, I bet he poured out the milk himself. I got home, heard the shower going and thought nothing of it. I made breakfast and waited. And waited.” Hot tears ran down her face, the pain and shame still sharp. “He didn’t die in the war, but that fucking war killed him. He was just waiting for the right time to do it. At least he didn’t have to see the bombs drop.”

Hancock put a hand on her shoulder.

“And the one guy left in the world who I could ask about what my brother went through is sitting back in that house… and I can’t say a damn thing to him.” In frustration, she punched the log, sending splinters of bark flying.

“I shouldn’t have even told you, John.” She looked up at him, tears still brimming in her eyes. “I don’t quite understand I have, truth be told.”

“I have been told I have one of those faces.” The corners of his mouth drew into a wry smile.

“Nah, it’s the hat.” She returned a weak smile of her own. ”You’ve found my weakness… skulls wearing stupid hats. You’re the first one to talk back though.”

“Lucky me!” Hancock stood. “You coming back inside?”

Payne drained the last of the beer before chucking the bottle down the ruined street. It landed with a satisfying crack as it shattered. “Give me a sec. I’ll be right there. Hey, Hancock, please keep this between us?”

Hancock tipped his hat and he started back. “Of course.”


	20. A Little Poke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Side tracked by a storm on the way to The Slog, Payne's bad luck continues.

[(Original Post)](https://antiquechampagne.tumblr.com/post/180618946280/chapter-20-a-little-poke)

Payne sat there in the night, the breeze lightly teasing at her hair. The temptation to run returned; to dissolve into the dark. Squeezing her eyes shut, she rose and returned to the tumble down house. Three pairs of eyes reflected the orange firelight as they turned to welcome her back.

“See, told ya… bad meat, right Payne?”

She nodded, and quickly placed a hand on her side. “Sorry if I had you worried. I sometimes have bad reactions to things. I’m fine now.” Payne let out a little sigh. “Since I don’t think I am going to manage to sleep any time soon, I’ll take first watch, if that’s okay.”

Everyone nodded in agreement. Payne headed up to the second story before hearing who would relieve her. Honestly, she didn’t care. She needed the time to clear her head. The hours passed quietly, cooling her mind.

A few hours after midnight, she heard someone climb the stairs. Nate appeared and stretched as he walked towards her.

“You doing okay?” he asked softly.

“Yeah, nothing a little time won’t heal.” She turned to him, a question bubbling below the surface. “Can I ask you something, about before the war?” she said sheepishly.

“Sure.” He sat down next to her, the moonlight glinting off the gold accents of his worn vault suit.

“You said you were in the war, right?” He nodded. “And you came home, starting a family. What was it like, coming back? Was it hard to not be a soldier anymore?”

Nate sighed. “I was discharged about a year a half before the whole world went to shit. The military had guys on hand to try and ease us back into civilian life, but you could tell the Department of Reintegration Services was really just lip service.  The whole operation was underfunded and understaffed.” He shook his head slowly. “I found it really jarring. You see a lot of stuff in war, stuff you can’t just talk about with people. In some ways, you never really stop being a soldier. Nora helped with that. Her father was a psychologist; I guess she picked up something from him. She was the only one who ever really got me to talk through the stuff. Guess that is one of the reasons I loved her. She knew what to say and when.”

Payne rubbed at some discoloration on the barrel of her rifle. “I guess a lot of other guys didn’t have that.”

“No, I guess not.” Nate propped his hand under his chin. “Why you asking?”

“Well, for you, the war just happened, right? Now you are running around in all this shit. It’s gotta be like going back to war.”

“You have a point. Guess it’s a good thing you never really stop being a soldier, then.” He flicked a thumb towards the stairs. “Go on and get some sleep. I’ll be fine.”

Payne got up and started down.

“Hey, Payne?”

She stopped, and looked back.

“Thanks for asking.” A weak smile warmed Nate’s face. Payne nodded.

The next morning everyone rose early and headed out. As they walked, Hancock noticed Payne rubbing the palm of her hand. He fell into step with her.

“Your hand okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, it will be fine. It’s just the burn from last night when I almost fell in the fire. My glove is irritating it.”

“And here I thought it would be all taken care off since you took a little nip from your ‘juice box’ this morning.”

“Burns take a long time to heal for me, even with… a little help.” Payne found the term ‘juice box’ distasteful so she avoided it.

Hancock looked up and scanned the sky, quickening his pace. “We need to find a safe place soon. Rad storm is rolling in.”

“I don’t see anything.” Nate looked around. Almost on cue, the distant rumble of thunder confirmed Hancock’s hunch.

Hancock wiggled his fingers in the air. “Special ghoul super power.”

Nate motion to the group. “We’re close to a place that might work. Follow me.”

They closed hidden bunker’s door just as the first splatters of radioactive rain hit the ground. Nate and Piper stepped over a broken protectron to get as far away from the window of the small room as they could.

Hancock stood by the shielded window, looking out at the storm. “How did you find this place?”

“I just stumbled upon it… that protectron gave me a bit of trouble. That terminal locked me out, but I guess it has something to do with this lift. It looks like it still might work.” Green lightning ripped through the sky close to them. Nate’s pipboy started to crackle. He dug some Rad-X out of a pocket and popped some in his mouth before handing the bottle to Piper.

“I hope this storm passes quickly. I don’t feel like glowing when we show up at The Slog.” She held the bottle out to Payne, but she declined.

“I’m fine. A little radiation doesn’t bother me.”

Unfortunately, the rad storm resolved into a raging thunderstorm that had them staying put for more than an hour. Nate entertained himself by trying to pull more scrap out of the defunct robot, while Hancock seemed to be enjoying himself just watching the rain. Piper grumbled while she tinkered with the computer terminal.

Payne tried to ease her boredom by rummaging through the meager furnishings. She found nothing useful, which she expected since Nate had obviously been through here before. Reclining on a concrete wall, she happened to glance behind a nearby shelving unit. There something caught her eye. Nudging the heavy cabinet with her shoulder, Payne uncovered a hidden cubby carved into the wall. The space was awkward, but she managed to slip her hand into the hole and pulled out a couple of Jet containers.

“Hey Hancock, Merry Christmas!” she playfully tossed them over to her boss.

“Sweet! Thanks. Anything else fun back there?” He asked.

Payne wedged herself in tighter between the wall and cabinet, trying to reach the back of the stash. She felt the telltale shape of a handful of syringes and grasped for them. As her fingers tightened around them, she heard a sharp snap. Feeling the sting of the delicate glass as it dug into her skin, she instinctually pulled back.

“Fucking HELL!” Payne yelped as she quickly extricated herself, whipping her head around wildly. Blood coursed liberally down glass, leather and flesh onto the concrete floor. Piper stifled gasped.

“What happened?” Nate was on his feet in an instant, guiding her to Piper’s recently vacated seat by the desk.

Behind her helmet, Payne grit her teeth. “Chem syringe broke. Damn it.”

A large cylindrical shard of glass protruded obliquely from the meaty part of Payne’s palm, slicing neatly through her black glove. Nate quickly studied the injury, gingerly turning over her hand and placing it back on the desktop.

“Piper, get the first aid kit out of my pack.” Ordered Nate.

Hancock stood next to Payne, watched as Nate pulled rags, needles and antiseptic from his bag next to her limp hand. Payne’s uninjured left hand clenched in pain against her thigh.

“What kind of chems was it?” he asked.

“Med-Xss.” Payne answered, her speech started to slur.

“Med-X? Are you sure?” Nate turned to her. “Then why are you in so much pain?”

“Chemsss don’t work right on me.” Payne shook her head. As she continued, her voice became slow and measured. “Med-X paralysesss my musclesss and increasessss pain.”

“Lucky you.” Hancock jabbed. Looking down he noticed her right shoulder slumped. He guessed under her helmet’s visor more evidence of paralysis presented itself. More pressing was the large pool of blood spreading on the table.

Nate cut away the leather glove and inspected the wound. Tendon and bone shown through the bloody glass.

Piper turned away, color draining from her face. “Okay, that’s enough for me.” She proper herself up in the corner with the door, trying desperately to watch the rain through the window and ignore the gory scene.

“Oh, come on Piper!” Hancock chided. “You’ve seen worse than this!”

“Shut up, Hancock!” Piper quickly turned around as she caught another glimpse of Payne’s mangled hand. “Not this close up!”

Payne hissed as Nate gently tugged on the glass. “That’s really in there, isn’t it.” He said.

“Jusst pull it OUT!” She snapped. “Or I’ll do it mysself.”

Payne steeled herself. Focusing on her breathing, she forced it to be even and slow. Nate gripped the glass shard. The jagged edges slid slowly through her torn flesh. Once free, Nate let out a sigh of relief and went to grab a needle.

“You didn’t get all of it.” Payne spat through a clenched jaw.

“What?” Nate lightly probed the wound. Payne sat as still as she could stand, agony pulsing through her arm and into her brain. Frustrated at his pace, Payne pushed Nate’s hand away.

“Here!” she hissed as she took his finger and pushed it along the fleshy bit near her thumb. Under his fingers, he felt something hard and unmoving beneath the meat. Grabbing a pair of forceps, he fished around in the bloody gash. Payne rolled her head as stars appeared in her vision. Hancock placed a hand on her shoulder. Finally, Nate fished out the slick shard and washed out the wound with a bit of purified water. Swiftly he stitched the wound closed.

As he finished the last few stitches, Hancock squeezed Payne’s shoulder. “Badass, sister. Took that like a fucking trouper.”

“Thanksss.” Just as she looked away from her hand, she felt the pinch and heard the plunger release of a stimpak. “Awww, fuck… really Nate?”

Nate look up confused. “What? It’s a stimpak. Don’t want you to have a scar, do you?”

“It told you. Chemsss don’t work right on me.” Nate apologized while he continued to wrap her hand in makeshift bandages. She looked up at Hancock. “Too late now, I sssspose. How far to the Sssslog?”

“A mile or two. You gunna be okay?” Hancock helped her to her feet. Payne tested putting weight on her right leg. It was weak and wobbly, but she could walk… barely.

“When we get there, I am going to sssleep all this off.” After trying to fit an old glove from her pack over the bandages with no success, Payne resorted in just wrapping more rags around her hand to protect it from the sun.

The rain stopped. The group slowly made their way through the wastes, slowed by the mud and Payne’s limping gait. Because of the stimpak, she had to stop frequently to catch her breath. By the time they reached The Slog in the afternoon, Payne was dead on her feet.

As they approached, a ghoul dressed in a flannel shirt stopped his digging and headed in their direction, arm raised in greeting.

“Hey, Nate.” He smiled. “Hi John! What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

Nate answered. “Hey Wiseman. We’re here to see how your latest resident is doing. Where is the big guy?”

Wiseman turned and called out. “Hey Strong, your human is here to see you!”

From behind the building, a hulking green figure appeared. The super mutant lumbering towards them, towering over the rest of the residents as he passed by the swimming pool turned tarberry bog.

“Strong go with human?” his voice low and booming.

“In a little bit, Big Guy. How are the defenses going?” Nate asked.

“Strong build walls to protect squishy ghouls. Still no find milk of human kindness.”

 “I’m sure you’ll find it soon.” Nate turned to Wiseman. “How’s it been? Any problems?”

“No, surprisingly.” Wiseman shrugged. “Strong has been a great help. Some residents are still wary of him, but nothing a little time can’t help. Truth be told, he takes a little getting used to.”

“I figure we can lend a hand around here before I head out with Strong. I have quite the trip planned.”

“And when you work hard, you play hard.” Hancock smiled.

“And I bet you brought the party hats. You can always count on Mayor Hancock to have a good time.” Wiseman put an arm around Hancock’s shoulders while guiding the group around the ruined resort. “Who’s the slow one?”

“Don’t let her hear you say that. She’s my new body guard, Payne. She’s a bit worse for the wear at them moment.”

Wiseman and Payne exchanged acknowledgements.

Piper held back with Payne. “Jeeze, those super mutants aren’t much prettier up close, are they?”

Payne, in her exhausted state barely managed a faint grunt in response. When they reached the main building, Payne saw rows of beds inside.

“If you all don’t mind… I’m going to rest for a bit. My head is killing me.”

“There are guest beds on the left. Let me know if you need anything.” Wiseman continued to show the rest of the group around, Strong in tow behind them. A few minutes later, Payne drifted away into a painful and restless sleep.


	21. All Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helping out around the Slog means making some new friends.

[(Original Post)](https://antiquechampagne.tumblr.com/post/181017920300/chapter-21-all-work)

Payne woke in the early evening to delicious aromas filling the air. Quickly and discreetly she drained a blood bag before heading out to find Hancock. She found him tightening the last few screws on a shotgun turret.

Payne was impressed. “Well, that looks particularly nasty.”

“Morning sleepy head. That baby will fuck someone up, wont it? We should put a few in back home.”

“Is there anything I can help with?” Payne asked.

“Probably, but first stop over and see Deirdre has anything to replace that sorry excuse for a glove.” He pointed to her hastily wrapped hand.

Payne wandered over in the direction of a lanky ghoul with smart black hair knelling in the dirt. She looked up from her tato plant.

“You need something?” Deirdre gruffly asked as she dusted herself off.

“Got any gloves?”

“Got any caps?” she smartly replied.

With a nod, Deirdre rummaged through a nearby trunk and pulled out a musty pair of tan work gloves. “Five caps.”

“Got anything in black?” Deirdre shook her head no. “Make it 4, then?” Payne countered.

“I guess, since you’re Hancock’s gal.”

Payne handed over the caps. “I’m just his bodyguard.” Deirdre shrugged as she took Payne’s caps.

Finished with their transaction, Payne let Deirdre get back to her plants. She quickly spotted Strong’s enormous frame beyond the pool, driving fence posts one by one into the ground with a powered sledgehammer. Several others were helping erect wooden barricades. In the rabble, Payne spotted Nate. She waved as she drew closer.

“Feeling better?” Nate asked, wiping sweat from his forehead.

“Yeah, thanks.” She flexed her right hand. The burn still stung under the leather, but other than that she was fine. “You guys need help here?”

“Hey Jones…” Nate looked over his shoulder. “Why don’t you take a break? You earned it. Payne here can finish that.”

Jones handed Payne his hammer as he nodded in thanks, picking up where he left off. The good will and comradery between Nate and the residents of the Slog was infectious. Even with the grueling work, soon everyone was chatting and joking. The afternoon went by quickly. Soon a bell was ringing, signally that the food was ready.

Following the crowd. Payne walked up to the long table piled high with sizzling meats and vegetables. At one end sat a row of tarberry pies. A hand clapped on her back.

“They really rolled out the red carpet for us, didn’t they?” Hancock picked up a slice of fried tato and popped it in his mouth.

“They are being very generous.” Payne was impressed.

“I wish I could say it was all for yours truly, but I think it is more for Nate. He has done a lot of work out here… clearing out raiders, improvements and stuff. Heck, you should have seen Arlen when he brought him all those Buttercup parts. He was in tears when Nate handed him an old prewar holotape. I hear it was a letter from his kid. Nate’s practically a legend around here.”

“Stealing your spotlight?” jabbed Payne.

“Naah, he can keep the selfless hero shtick. I’m cornering the lovable rogue market.”

People had begun to gather around, plates in hand. Payne filled her dish and grabbed a beer before retreating into the building, while the others gathered around large fire pit. Removing her helmet, she ate to the din of dozens of conversations buzzed outside. She watched Hancock in the dying light as he flitted between groups of people, ever the social butterfly. Slowly, dusk started staining the remains streaks of the storm clouds in brilliant pinks and oranges.

Out of the crowd, a ghoul with tattered blue jeans meandered inside. Her steel grey hair glowed with the colors of the setting sun. She carried two plates, each with a huge slice of pie.

“Not interested in joining the party, honey? Us ghoul didn’t scare you off, did we?”

“No, that’s not it. I have… sensitive skin.” Payne winced a little at the mention of her skin, given the state of woman before her. She motioned of her to sit. Sliding into a metal folding chair, the ghoul placed the plates down on the coffee table. They exchanged introductions.

“Well, Payne, you’re rolling with Mayor Hancock, I hear?” Payne nodded and noticed Holly’s coquettish smile. “He sure knows how to pick the pretty ones.”

“Um, I’m just his body guard.”

“That’s too bad. But I guess that means I might have a shot? We don’t get to many smoothskins as nice looking as you out this way.” Holly leaned in closer.

Payne couldn’t contain her grin at the ghoul’s forward nature. “Sorry, but I’m not on the market at the moment… but thanks.”

“Can’t fault a girl for trying! A ghoul’s got needs too!” Holly played off her rejection with a good natured grin.

“I watch Hancock’s back… I know that better than most!” They both shared in some lighthearted laughter. “I’ll tell ya what… If you go and bring me another, I’ll save you a dance later if you want.”

“You got a deal!” Holly rose to leave just as Hancock walked in.

“Don’t tell me… Holly asked you to taste her _pie_ , didn’t she?” he snickered.

“You know it!” Holly jabbed Hancock playfully in the arm. “And you still owe me some _pie_ of your own, Mister Mayor. You promised me last time you visited!”

“Last time I was here it was on business, not pleasure… but I bet I might have something a later for you to taste.” He traced a finger down her cheek.

Holly scoffed playfully. “I think I have found something fresher!” She spun and walked away.

Payne snorted and shook her head as Hancock replaced Holly in the seat next to her.

“Holly can smell new meat from a mile away. Plus, she will hit just about on anything with two legs and a heartbeat.”

“So it seems. She knows what she wants and goes for it.” Payne drained the last dregs of her beer. “I’ve known a lot of people like that. It’s not a bad trait.”

“You into ghoul and gals, then?” Hancock couldn’t suppress a smirk of his own. “Hot. Gotta let me watch!”

“Not quite, turned her down.” Just then Holly appeared in the doorway with a tall bottle. “But I think she just bought herself a dance later.”

Holly set the bottle down. “Sorry, smoothskin, no beer. Will vodka do?” Payne nodded. Holly shooed Hancock out of her seat. “Let us get acquainted in peace, you letch!” Hancock feigned dejection as he scuttled away.

The two women talked and joked while working their way through their slices of pie. The sweetness of the pie helped cut the burn of the vodka. Payne found Holly’s company to be quite enjoyable, quick to laugh and straight to the point. Payne also saw how proud of the tarberry bog she oversaw.

Finally the sun set, twilight settled around the revelers. Holly and Payne joined the rest around the welcoming fire. Someone dragged a shabby radio out, mixing music with the waves of laughter and conversations.

Spotting Nate across the fire, Payne excused herself from Holly.

“I got a question for you.” Payne asked Nate. “Super mutants are immune to radiation, but you aren’t. Downing enough Rad-X and Rad-Away is really risky. What are you going to do?”

“Come with me. I showed this off before, but you were sleeping.” He led her around to the side of the squat building. A bright yellow frame held up a complete suite of T-60 power armor, dimly lit by the distant firelight. The flickering light gave the illusion of movement the imposing suit. As she observed it, memories flashed across her mind. She suddenly saw her brother smiling next to his own suit, his pride captured forever in the moment frozen in a golden frame hung in the hall. She found it hard to follow Nate, who was mumbling on about upgrades and rad scrubbers.

Nate noticed the vacant look in her eyes. “Hey, Payne. You okay?”

Caught off guard, Payne stammered. “Um, yeah. I’m not all that fond of these things up close. I’ve had some run-ins with the Brotherhood of Steel. Not good ones.” She hope her lie was enough to keep him from digging any further.

“Oh, sorry. I understand. I haven’t heard much good about them, either.”

“You didn’t know. It should keep you safe out in the Glowing Sea, though. Where did you find it?”

“You’d be surprised how many of these things I have found… guess it makes sense with all the military instillations around.”

Payne’s hand unconsciously rose, her fingertips hover over a faded decal, just short of touching the cold metal. She turned to Nate. “Can I?”

“Sure. There isn’t even a fusion core in it. I don’t need someone getting drunk and taking this bad boy out for a joy ride.”

Her hand slid along the armor’s steel grey chest piece. Aiden’s voice, jubilant from his recent completion of boot camp, rang in her ears. _One of these bad boys will be mine someday soon, pipsqueak. Just you wait and see!_

Payne recoiled as if shocked. She became painfully aware there was something missing around her neck.

“Thanks.” She turned. “I think it’s about time we got back to the party.” She lightly wrapped her arms around herself.

“Agreed.” Back within the circle of fire light, Aiden’s voice faded back into the shadows of Payne’s mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have started a new website to keep track of everything (and host my images on a place other than Tumblr). [Please feel free to check it out!](https://antiquechampagne.weebly.com/)


	22. All Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to let off a little steam with a bunch of drinking, dancing and singing!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are several songs referenced in this chapter. I am going to include links to references here and in the text. I hope it helps create the party atmosphere at the Slog.  
>  [Tears for Fears/Gary Jules - Mad World (Cover)](https://youtu.be/ewi4LJ1visw)  
>  [Man With The Hex - The Atomic Fireballs](https://youtu.be/UunvsU66B4Y)  
>  [Candyman - Christina Aguilera](https://youtu.be/-ScjucUV8v0)

True to her word, when _Butcher Pete_ started on the radio, Holly appeared at Payne’s side.  With her hand outstretched, she pulled Payne away from her conversation with Hancock, Nate, Piper and Wiseman. Together, they danced about in the flickering light, hips swaying and feet stomping to the beat. Payne and Holly’s infectious smiles soon coaxed more bodies joined them, including a reluctant Nate pulled in by Piper. Payne added a quick hip shimmy as she danced, enthralling the crowd. Holly, inspired, attempted to copy Payne’s moves with dismal results. Wiseman snickered and turned to Hancock.

“Where in the hell did you find her?! Doesn’t she realize ghoul hips don’t move like that anymore?”

“Speak for yourself! These hips still pack quite the punch!” Hancock jabbed back, a sly smile lighting his face. “All kinds of people show up in Goodneighbor, she just seemed to have a bit more potential than some.”

“Sure…” Wiseman said sarcastically. “Looks like you are losing your ‘potential’ to Holly’s charms…”

Holly burst into a laughing fit, trying and failing to keep up with Payne’s patient instruction. Seeing Holly falter, Payne placed Holly’s hands on her hips as each one jump to the beat, hoping a more hands on approach could help her pupil learn. As the song ended, Payne’s hips gyrated rapidly under Holly’s fingers. Holly’s giggling ricocheted across the party. Another song started as more people joined in the dancing.

Hancock sat back, produced a Mentat from the folds of his jacket before popping it in his mouth. He savored the blossom of warmth in his brain.  As he enjoyed the crowd gathering on the dancefloor, he noticed Wiseman easy smile momentarily fall. Following his stare, Hancock leaned over closing the distance between Wiseman and himself.

“So what’s his story?” Hancock, nodded at the ghoul sitting across the fire watching the dancers. “You’ve been keeping an eye on him all day.”

“That’s Turner. He wandered here little less than a year ago now. He’s a new ghoul, came from somewhere up north. He has some… boundary issues.” Wiseman took a swig of his drink, but looked as if he swallowed something more sour than just beer. “It’s gotta say something when even Holly turns a guy down.”

When the song ended, a winded Payne sat down trailed by Holly, still bouncing to the beat. “I’m feeling better, but damn, I’m not all there just yet. I need a bit of a break!” Holly gave a sad little huff before returning to the dance floor.

“I’m surprised she let you go that easily!” Wiseman teased.

Payne cracked open a can of water.

“Seriously?” Hancock scoffed. “Calling it quits now? The night is still young!”

“Just pacing myself. You still want to get back to Goodneighbor in one piece tomorrow, right? You’ve seen me with a hangover.”

Hancock shrugged. “As long as you get goosy enough to grace the Slog with a few songs.”

Tilting his head, Wiseman asked, “You sing?”

“When pressed.” Payne looked mildly annoyed. “Or plied enough with booze.” A nod and cheeky smile lighted across her face.

“Well then,” Wiseman leaned forward, picked up another bottle and tossed it her way. “Drink up! I’m damn tired of hearing the same dozen songs!”

“Would you believe it, but Wiseman has a hidden talent too!” Hancock elbowed Wiseman playfully in the ribs. “He was in a band before the war!”

“Ah hell… how’d you know that? Don’t you go spreading that around!”

“You’d be surprised how chatty you get when you are on hit of Jet.”

Wiseman shook his head, only partially remember a hazy night long ago.

“So, what did you play?” egged Payne, her curiosity piqued. Her stare drilled into Wiseman. He could only sit stone faced and avoid her questions for so long.

“I played a bunch of stuff, but mostly trumpet.” He sheepishly looked at his boots. “I even sang a little… but I haven’t don’t it in… shit… a long fucking time. There isn’t enough booze, _or chems_ …” He gave a side-eye glance to Hancock. “in the Commonwealth to get me to do that again.”

“Really?” cooed Payne.

Hancock and Wiseman turned with surprise. Payne had a glint in her eyes that screamed _challenge accepted_. With her beer in hand, she crossed over to sit next to Wiseman.

“I can be very persuasive when I put my mind to it.” She purred. Wiseman’s checks brightened a few shades redder, not an easy feat for a ghoul.

“Good luck, Brother.” Hancock gave him a few good-hearted thumps on the shoulder before leaving to schmooze. He wasn’t a bit surprised an hour or so later when he glanced up to see Payne practically dragging Wiseman towards the fire, a guitar in her hand and a dinged up horn in his. What he didn’t expect was to see Jones tailing them.

They quickly cleared an impromptu stage area. Jones brought over a few metal trashcans and wooden boxes to bang out rhythms on.

“ _I can’t_!” protested Wiseman. “I hardly have enough lips to blow right anymore!”

“Come on! You said you knew this song!” Payne’s cheeks and nose were a bit rosier than normal. “You promised you would sing with me if I drank that whole bottle of rot gut! Now pay up!” Payne started to tune up the guitar.

“Nobody wants to hear me try to sing.”

Payne flashed him a singular look. His shoulders sagged in defeat as he slowly checked the valves on his trumpet, trying to stall.

To give him a bit of a breather, Payne started to pluck a song out on the guitar. Before she realized it, a song lilted out of the instrument, sad and wistful. Almost as an afterthought, Payne began to sing. It was as if a spell was cast upon the party. Groups stopped their conversations and gathered close, sitting around in a quiet circle to listen.

<https://youtu.be/ewi4LJ1visw>

  _All around me are familiar faces_

_Worn out places, worn out faces_

_Bright and early for their daily races_

_Going nowhere, going nowhere_

_Their tears are filling up their glasses_

_No expression, no expression_

_Hide my head, I want to drown my sorrow_

_No tomorrow, no tomorrow_

_And I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad_

_The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had_

_I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take_

_When people run in circles it's a very very_

_Mad world, mad world_

The fire crackled, adding a strange kind of a staccato percussion to her haunting song. Light played softly against her closed eyes, imparting a solemn tone to her features.

_Children waiting for the day, they feel good_

_Happy birthday, happy birthday_

_Made to feel the way that every child should_

_Sit and listen, sit and listen_

_Went to school and I was very nervous_

_No one knew me, no one knew me_

_Hello teacher, tell me what's my lesson_

_Look right through me, look right through me_

_And I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad_

_The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had_

_I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take_

_When people run in circles it's a very very_

_Mad world, mad world_

_Enlarge your world_

_Mad world_

The notes trailed off and Payne finally looked up with an awkward grin. Slowly, a tentative round of applause spread through the crowd.

“Damn.” Wiseman shook his head side to side. “How am I supposed to follow that?”

“With something a bit more upbeat!” Payne jumped up and nodded encouragingly. “You’ve got this!” She glanced back at Jones. “We’ve got your back!”

Wiseman took a shaky breath and let it out slowly. Payne started to clap rhythmically. Exaggerating her movements, she got the crowd to tentatively join her.

<https://youtu.be/UunvsU66B4Y>

  _You remind me of the man!_ Wiseman’s voice was coarse and gravely, but strong.

 _What man?_ Payne returned. A few eyes in the crowd lit up with recognition.

_The man with the power!_

_What power?_ A few more voices joined in with Payne’s.

_Oh, the power of voodoo_

_Who do?_ Even more voices joined.

 _Oh, you do, you do_ Wiseman was smiling as he called out.

_Do what?_

Jones joined in, banging a messy base line on his cans as Wiseman blew raucously on his horn. Wiseman took turns between trumpeting and singing. His harsh voice seemed to fit the song perfectly. Several couples got up to dance, unable to withstand the up-tempo beat. Spurred on by the audience, Wiseman was well out of breath by the end of the song, stumbling along to the end, but smiling ear from ear. This time, the round of applause was for him.

Over the next hour, they ran through several songs, sometimes soaring, other times stumbling along. Laughter and drinks flowed like the music. The only one to leave was Strong, complaining that ‘Loud noises hurt Strong’s ears’ before lumbering off to crunch on stewed brahmin bones by himself.

During a short break, Hancock brought another round to share with the spontaneous musicians. Payne was chatting with Nate as he approached.

“Wasn’t sure you could really do it, Sister, but damn…” He held up a shot to Payne.

“It’s a lot easier to perform with others. No one really likes being put on the spot.” She popped it back in one swallow and hissed as it burned her throat. “I needed that! I’ve got quite the cheeky number for a finale.”

Hancock raised what would have been an eyebrow. “Oh, really! Give your boss a little preview, wontcha?”

Payne held up her finger. “Good things come to boys who wait!”

Right then Holly returned, holding a tattered red handkerchief in her hands.

“Look what I found!” she exclaimed as she opened the cloth, revealing a cache of ancient plastic tubes and cases. Payne picked up and opened cracked lipstick tube. Her eyes lit up.

“Perfect!” She extended the bright red stick and, opening a clamshell with a splintered mirror, applied it to her pursed lips. She then blended a touch into each cheek. Next, she found the crumbling remains of some bruise colored powder and applied it to her eyes. Holly helped arrange her hair high on her head so that Payne could quickly tie the bright handkerchief around her head. Payne rolled up her sleeves and tied a knot in the front of her sweater. To Hancock, she bore a striking resemblance to the women in old prewar ads.

She turned to Holly and Hancock, lightly adjusting her tumbling hair and tugging at her turtleneck as she spoke. “How do I look?”

Holly answered with an ecstatic “Great!” Hancock tongue seemed to be malfunctioning, so he just nodded his approval.

“Good, go take a seat!” Payne shooed them away. Getting back in front of the ‘band’, she pulled Nate out of the crowd. He was clearly uneasy being in front of so many. Payne patted him on the back and snuck a few encouraging words into his ear. She turned to Jones, who started a steady beat. Wiseman readied himself.

Nate took a deep breath in and started to shout.

<https://youtu.be/-ScjucUV8v0>

_Tarzan and Jane were swingin' on a vine_

_Candy Man, Candy Man_ Payne straightened up and answered with a wicked grin on her face, bouncing her shoulders to the beat.

 _Sippin' from a bottle of vodka double wine_ Nate’s baritone contrasted Payne’s sultry tones.

 _Sweet, sugar, Candy Man_ Whispered Payne coyly, playing to the crowd.

Wiseman’s horn raucously joined in with Jones’ drums. By the time Payne started in with her buoyant voice, most watching were clapping along. Payne was not lying. The song was filled with tongue in cheek innuendos, which she used to full effect as she flounced about, working the reactions of the crowd. Payne pantomimed sliding her pants down in front of spluttering Wiseman, his notes a noisy mess as he tried to recover. Piper lost herself to a fit of laughter behind her hands as Nate snorted. Holly was rolling with laughter as Payne slowly made her way around the circle of firelight, twirling and flirting along the way.

“She’s done this before, hasn’t she?” Holly offhandedly asked Hancock as she caught her breath.

“I bet she has…” Hancock was starting to appreciate the speed at which she had to read each person she stopped at, teasing an eye roll or suggestive gesture just enough to get a reaction without offending while dancing along with the beat. Soon enough she sauntered in front of Holly and Hancock. Holly egged her on.

Payne turned to Hancock and continued singing.

_He got those lips like sugar cane_

_Good things come for boys who wait_ Payne wagged a finger in front of Hancock before sitting down in his lap.

 _He's a one stop shop with a real big… uh_ With a playful hand over her open mouth, Payne lithely leapt out of his lap as if she had sat on surprised her. The crowd howled at the bawdy performance, Hancock included.

 _He's a sweet-talkin', sugar coated candyman_ Payne fanned herself as she slipped back up to the front of the band, finishing up the song with a few more nods and dips. She took her bows to the audience’s roaring applause, her chest heaving as she caught her breath.

Payne leaned back to Wiseman as she let her hair down from the kerchief. “That’s enough for me for one night!”

Hancock was not the only one who watched her grab a bottle, sneak past the crowd and out of the dancing light of the fire.


	23. No Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Payne takes care of some unwanted attention. *WARNING* This chapter contains an attempted sexual assault.

Payne found a quiet spot behind the main building to settle her thoughts. Sometimes when her mind slowed down after a lot of drinking, she found herself longing for some alone time to sort through it all. The back side of the building had a nice concrete deck overlooking a nearby valley, perfect for reflecting and star gazing. She drug a couple of rag tag stools close to the edge, one for herself and one for her drink. As she opened the bottle and after sniffing the acrid alcohol inside, realized that water may have been a better choice. At least most of her taste buds were dulled by now.

Sitting in the darkness, her eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light offered by the few industrial exterior lights. Payne untied her sweater and pulled down the sleeves as her body cooled, the warmth of the fire pulled away by the chill of the night. Darkness swam slowly around her.

Looking up, she stared at the stars, the tiny pin pricks of white drawing her mind away. She took comfort in the fact that they were the same stars she saw slowly arcing across the sky in her youth. Very few things were constants in the world anymore, even fewer that didn’t involve blood and death in some way. Payne chuckled to herself. At least taxes weren’t really a thing for most people to worry about any more. The skunky beer wrinkled her nose as she contemplated the steps that had led her to this particular point in time.

Out of the dark stepped an unassuming ghoul. Payne barely remembered him. He wore a threadbare hoody over his faded plaid shirt. He nervously played with the back of his black beanie knit cap.

“You sure know how to dance.”

“So I’ve been told.” She took another swallow of the beer as she spoke. He seemed to be thinking to himself, so Payne returned to looking at the sky.

“You passed right by me… even though I was right there.” He stammered. Payne narrowed eyes returned to his fidgeting frame. “I thought you might, I mean, it might be a good idea…”

“Hold it right there.” Payne held up her swaying hand. “Sorry I you feel I snubbed you, but it’s nothing personal. It was for fun, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well…” he sputtered “Maybe we could spend some time, get to know each other?”

Payne tried to stop her eyes from rolling, but the alcohol seemed to be aiding in their lubrication. “Um, no.” she flatly stated.

He stepped closer, his thumb hitched in the back pockets of his pants. “I got caps and chems, if that’s what you want. Lots.”

Without looking at him, she steeled he jaw. This guy was lying through his teeth. No matter the century, some people just did not take no for an answer.

She hoped he did not freeze solid from her cold shoulder. “Not interested. Do me a favor, and just leave before you embarrass yourself.”

The ghoul started to mumble something under his breath as he skulked away. Payne wasn’t interested in whatever self-indulgent drivel he spewed. She leaned forward to put her drink on the second stool, when she thought she heard the near silent pneumatic hiss of a chem syringe.

Before she could react, the ghoul’s right hand closed around her throat, pushing her off her stool and pinning her to the cold wall behind her. The back of Payne’s head slammed against the concrete, sparks momentarily flew across her vision as the edges dimmed. Her lungs started to scream for more oxygen as system flooded with adrenaline. Time seemed to crawl. Payne watched with dawning disgust as the ghouls other hand trailed down her chest.

As he grabbed as his belt, unbuckling it, Payne’s brain violently broke out from its haze. She brought both her elbows down on the inside of her attacker’s arm, barely breaking his hold on her neck.

“You fucking pervert!” Payne screamed as she reached for her knife strapped to her hip. Faster than she anticipated, he landed a punch to the left side of her face, snapping her head back. Payne could hear her right cheekbone snap as it hit the wall. Payne reeled from the sucker punch. She started to curse again. In an attempt to silence her, the ghoul covered her mouth with his hand. In doing so, he forced his middle finger across her open mouth.

_Dumbass_ snarled Payne to herself. Her powerful jaw clamped down, her sharp teeth cleanly severing the digit. It was the ghoul’s turn to curse profanely, shying away while clutching his hands together in an attempt to staunch the bleeding.

Payne spat the offending finger in the dirt. Payne half registered the sound that might have been footsteps in gravel, but she could not afford to take her complete attention to the chem fueled assailant in front of her. The stench of his bitter blood flooded her senses, disgusting her. She quickly recovered, drawing her blade as she whipped her mouth with the other. The sides of her face pulsed with pain, her right eye nearly swollen closed. They circled each other. Now she could studied his nose-less face, his eyes ablaze wide with pain, hate and rage.

“My finger! You smoothskin bitch!” He ran straight at her. “You’ll pay for that!”

Payne side stepped him, kicking at his knee as he passed. It connected, sending him a few steps off course… not sprawling like Payne had hoped. She backed up quickly adding to the space between them. He pivoted to come at her again, arms out stretched. Payne raised her blade with both hands beside her face, readying herself to take a hit as he sprang back at her. A gloriously sinister thought floated across her mind as he closed the distance. It sang _He ran into my knife, he ran into my knife ten times…_

“PAYNE!” Hancock’s voice jolted her attention.

That split second hesitation changed Payne’s blade arc; sending it into a heavy shoulder, instead of lethally burying itself in his exposed neck artery. The ghoul snarled with pane and rage as he wrapped both arms around Payne, spearing her. His momentum carrying them several feet before driving them both into the ground. Ignoring a few more complaining broken bones, Payne abandoned her knife and started squarely landing blow after blow while trying to keep the creep’s arms pinned beneath her as long as she could.

“Grab him!” yelled Wiseman as he ran up to the bloody scene. Payne couldn’t tell who, but several hands tried to pull the raging settler off, but were beaten back by wild swings. Soon two giant green hands wrapped around the ghoul’s flailing upper arms, pinning them to his sides and pulling him off her. As she crawled away and stood, Payne nearly laughed seeing him held comically in midair by Strong, the ghoul’s legs kicking and swinging as he cursed and roared.

Payne turned to face Hancock and Holly. Seeing their horrified faces, Payne’s body suddenly remembered the beating it had just took. Sharp pain pulsed back into her face and torso.

“What the fuck happened?” asked Hancock.

Before she could utter a syllable, Holly answered for her. “That sick son of a bitch, Turner, that’s what happened!” Turner was struggling less in Strong’s grasp, but his shouting grew louder.

Wiseman walked up behind Payne. “Payne, are you okay?”

She turned and stared at him, her one eye practically burning a hole through him. “What do you think?” She walked passed Wiseman, stopping just a few inches out of Turner’s reach.

“You fucking cunt! You stabbed me and bit off my damn finger!”

“You are damn lucky that is all you lost.” Payne retorted coolly. She reached up and roughly tore her knife out of his shoulder, ignoring the protestation of Wiseman as he push her back away.

“You both better start telling me what is going on here. NOW.” Wiseman put his foot down.

“The creepy bastard tried to have his way with me.” She pointed to his open fly with her bloody knife before wiping it off on her pants. “Not that he could have done much given he shot up with some… what?” She walked over to the discarded empty syringe and picked it up. “Psycho-Jet? Can’t get laid the normal way?”

“Fucking whore! Playing all coy and innocent, then look down your perfect little nose at me! You can’t do that! Not to me!”

“ENOUGH!” Wiseman slashed his hand through the air. “You were on thin ice already, but now you have burned your last bridge.” Turner balked. “You are really one dumb shit, aren’t you Turner? Do you even realize who you attacked? Let me spell this out slowly so your chem-filled brain can remember it. Not only have you left me no choice but to throw you out of town, but you attacked Mayor Hancock’s bodyguard. Mayor Hancock… the mayor of the only other safe place for ghouls… _his_ bodyguard.” Slowly the rage plastered on Turner’s face blanched with fear as these facts slowly leeched into his reality.

Hancock ran his index finger along the edge of the point of his hat. “And you’ve been real un-neighborly, _brother_. Not the kind of temperament we cultivate in Goodneighbor.” That brought a deadly little smirk to Payne’s blood caked lips as she thought of poor old Finn and Hancock’s blade. The thought of her knife ‘greeting’ this slimly pervert as he walked through Goodneighbor’s rusty gate felt so good she could almost taste it.

Panic soaked Turner’s words. “Oh come on, Wiseman… I didn’t mean anything by it…”

Wiseman shook his head. “I told you. You had one more chance, and you fucked it up.” He pitched his thumb out in the darkness. Strong plodded to the edge of town trailed by the rest of the throng, still holding Turner off the ground as he wiggled and writhed.

“You can’t do this!” he screamed! “Where am I supposed to go?”

“You’re not my problem anymore.” Wiseman motioned for Strong to release his prisoner. “Don’t return.”

“I have nothing! Not even a weapon! You can’t do this!” Turner pleaded. He faced an impenetrable wall of unsympathetic eyes.

Slowly Holly walked up to a nearby pile, picked up a wooden fence slat and tossed it in the dirt before him. Turner stared blankly at it.

“You better take it. Unless you want to see if Payne can come with a more fitting punishment.” Wiseman looked over.

Payne played with the blade of her knife. “I could really use a new bag for caps…” she let her eyes trail down to Turner’s still open fly, her teeth showing through her deadly smirk. Turner quickly scrambled to grab the flimsy slat and disappeared into the night. The crowd seemed to let out a collective sigh of relief as they dispersed. Payne saw a familiar sea of faces before her, all of them wearing a worried expression.

“Man, he did a number on you.” Nate moved to open a bag at his hip.

Payne waved his offer of a stimpak away. “I got my own stuff, quit fussing. My cheek needs to be set anyway.”

“I’m awfully sorry about that, Payne.” Regret burned on Wiseman’s weary features, maybe even a bit of embarrassment. “I should have…”

Payne cut him off. “Assholes like that are everywhere. Sounds like you gave him more chances than he deserved. I can handle myself. Even though he was tweaked out, he didn’t do anything that can’t be fixed. If Hancock hadn’t distracted me, you would have been dealing with a body that needed burying.”

Holly gently put a calloused hand on Payne’s shoulder. “Are you sure you are okay, hun?” Payne was touched by her concern and assured her she was. She gently brushed other offers of condolences and assistance.

Hancock had been hanging back, waiting for the small crowd to thin out before motioning for Payne to break away. Another round of assurances and she was able to shoo them back to the dying fire. She wearily leaned against the wall next to Hancock.

“You look like crap.” Hancock sarcastically observed.

“No shit, Sherlock. At least Diamond City is going to get a good yarn on how much of a badass your body guard is. Did you see how fast Piper was writing shit down?” Payne snickered a bit until her broken ribs reminded her that was not a great idea.

“You realize it was Piper alerted the rest of us? Apparently she wanted to ask you a few questions and went looking for you. Glad she ran instead of trying to fight.”

“Yeah, who knows what that asshat would have done?”

Hancock face furrowed. “Why did you leave the party?”

“I just wanted a little bit of space… I was pretty plastered. I wanted to stare at the stars for a while and just breathe. Guess we know how well that worked out.” Payne looked behind her through the window, eyeing her cot and the bag under it. Those blood packs felt as far away as the Mohave to her.

“Don’t worry, sister.” Hancock opened up his coat to reveal a flask nestled next to a pack. “I got your fix.”

“Oh, shut up.” Payne smiled as clapped him on the shoulder.

“And I got the perfect spot for seeing the heavens, and this time you’ll have someone watching your back.”


	24. Misaligned Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hancock learns a bit more about Payne's bloody past after a taste of forbidden fruit.

 

Hancock led Payne in the direction of a large double decker platform strewn with benches and lounge chairs.

“Wiseman doesn’t like being the tough guy, does he?” Payne asked as she trudged up the wide metal stairs, her ribs complaining with each step.

“No, he doesn’t. He gave that Turner kid a lot more chances that I would have. Turning one of your own out is hard, even when that person deserves it. Especially if you know they have nowhere else to go.”

“Wiseman thinks he signed Turner’s death warrant.” Payne sighed. “But in reality, the moron signed his own all by himself. He shouldn’t lose any sleep over it.” Payne sat down on a wooden bench and looked down the dark valley below, lit only by weak moonlight. Hancock sat down lightly next to her.

“You don’t seem that shook up about the whole thing.” He opened his coat, withdrew the blood pack and handed it to her.

“Nah. I’ve had to deal with walking trash like that since I was a kid.” She looked at him with a glimmer in her eye. “You’ll love this… my mom owned an independent club off the strip. She taught me early on how to shut down people like that.”

“And you said she taught you how to perform.”

“That she did. Gotta keep those butts in the seats, though I think she was trying to get me into more of the traditional dance stuff. I think I let her down a bit when I showed an interest in burlesque.” Payne winced as she gingerly felt around her face. She tried to maneuver and hold the shards of her cheek in line while she drank. It would help the whole thing knit together quickly.

Hancock unconsciously winced watching her hold her face together as she sucked down the blood pack.  Payne let go of her cheek as she dropped the empty bag on the ground at her feet. Hancock scooted closer to her as he reached in his pocket.

“Wanna let me help you with that? Daisy is going to be pissed to see such a nice piece ruined so soon.” He motion to the large rip in Payne’s turtleneck. It had grown, streaks of unraveling fabric splaying down her chest. He held up a spool of bright red thread.

“Sure.” It wasn’t hard to notice all the work it took to keep his signature 500 year old look together. She arched her neck back as he examined the edges of the torn fabric. “But maybe I should have warned her that I tend to be really hard on stuff. Maybe save the good stuff for those who don’t see so much action.”

He effortlessly threaded the needle. “Shirt on or off?”

“Nice try. _On_. It’s not that big of a hole and I don’t feel like freezing my tits off, thanks.”

Hancock shrugged his shoulders. “Suit yourself.” Most humans didn’t want a ghoul to get that close to them, even if they were friendly. Payne didn’t seem to be like other humans… _but then again she isn’t really human, is she?_ Hancock reminded himself. He unwrapped a mentat carefully stowed inside the spool; delicate work required a sharp mind and eyes, more so at night.

He slipped a hand inside the front of her shirt as Payne sat close and unmoving. As Hancock worked, the hand-shaped bruise across her throat started to disappear. Nimbly, he picked up and carefully secured each exposed loop. He could feel her cool chest press with each breath against the back of his fingers. He stared at the fabric intently while Payne look up and out across the valley.

Payne closed her eyes. “Are your hands always this warm?”

“You bet. Temperature regulation is a bitch when you hardly have any body fat or sweat glands left. We over heat pretty easily. You should feel the rest of me.” His easy smile stretched wide across his face as he noticed her cheeks redden.

In an attempt to avoid catching his eye, Payne looked over at the large table sporting an oversized umbrella next to them. Sitting just inches out of reach was an unopened bottle of something undoubtedly alcoholic but unrecognizable. She reached out her arm, fingers straining to try to grab it.

“Hey! You want me to do this right? Sit still!” Hancock complained as she inched closer to the table, pulling away from him and messing up the tension of the section he was working on.

“Just… give me… got it!” She pulled the bottle into her lap, scooching back to her place. Again she tried to sit still, but occasionally moved to take a sip of some homemade swill. It burned with a dry acidic bite.

“Don’t you think you have had enough tonight?”

Payne could feel his breath warming her skin as he talked. His head was only a few inches from the fabric, nearly forcing him to sitting on her lap.

She swallowed another mouthful. “I’d like to see you cut me off!” Drinking the blood pack had not only boosted her healing process, but the side effect of greatly diminished the buzz she had been carefully cultivating all evening. _Sometimes you just want to be numb._ She though. This was one of those nights.

Hancock shrugged and continued working. Soon all the evidence of what happened earlier in the night disappeared, leaving only a small red scar up the front of her black shirt. Even most of the physical damage had visibly healed, leaving dull aches under flawless skin.

Hancock sat back and admired his work. Payne extended him the bottle in thanks after he stowed the thread and needle away for safekeeping. They sat in silence for a while, looking up into the sparkling sky.

“If there is somewhere else you want to be, I’ll be fine up here by myself.” Payne reclined against the back of the bench, the old wood creaking. “I’m sure there is some more fun to be had around here… something more exciting than staring at the sky.”

“What would you say if I would rather be up here with you?”

“I’d say you need your head examined.” Payne shook her head. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I don’t know about that. You seem to have gotten the most action of anyone here tonight.” The jab was softened by his easy smile.

“Low blow.” Payne warned halfheartedly.

“Consider for a moment, I want to be up here with you.” Payne gave him a sideways glance. “What? It’s a nice view.”

Her heart sank with the realization of where this was going. _Oh god, not tonight_ … “You’re not talking about the stars, are you.” Payne didn’t ask the question.

“And what if I’m not?” Hancock cocked his head to the side. “What would you say to that?” Payne swallowed a large mouthful of swill and avoided eye contact. “I know this mug isn’t much to look at…”

“That’s not it. It’s just a bad idea.” Payne’s face started to burn. Dread was starting to churn the rotgut in her stomach.

“I know running with ghouls is a bit different than swinging with ‘em for a lot of smoothskins, I understand. If you think I’d hold anything over your head involving your employment, you don’t…”

Payne interrupted him. “No, that’s not it. I don’t want to hurt you.” Frustration started to bubble up under the dread, her hands unconsciously balling into fists. Payne’s mind spun trying to think of something she could say to assuage his advances. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she needed him to understand. _She_ couldn’t do this, it had nothing to do with him.

“Ain’t nothing going to fall off that hasn’t already, sister.” He watched her profile, acutely aware that she trying hard to avoid his face. “But I can take a hint. I…”

_He isn’t going to let this go, is he?_

Payne took his head in her hands and kissed him deeply. On instinct, Hancock pulled away in surprise but Payne’s powerful hands held him firmly. Payne, her eyes closed, felt him relax after the shock passed and ease himself into her embrace.  Need, lust and hunger kindled inside her, awakening after years of constraint, each feeding off the other and growing stronger. Letting herself feel again, her pulse raced. The flood was overwhelming her senses. She felt the rush of his delicious smell and taste all around her, intoxicating her. He happily returned every caress of her lips, drinking her in.

Lost in the surge, Payne almost missed the pull of the thirst awakening. As it reeled up inside her, a jolt of fear make her pull away.

Hancock, confused by her deliberate distance after such a fiery encounter. As he opened his eye to ask why she had stopped, he found himself staring at two inky black eyes staring back at him. Payne’s mouth sat agape, the moonlight glinting off her extended canines.

“I can’t.” she managed weakly. She gently brushed her thumb against Hancock’s cheek.

“It’s a bad idea…” he breathlessly repeated her earlier refrain. He watched as the watery storm slowly dissolved and Payne’s breath slowed.

She pulled away, collecting herself. Once again she sat, eyes averted, staring at the night. “I don’t want to hurt you. I’ve done that once. Never again.”

“What… happened?”

Payne wasn’t surprised to hear the question, but the sincerity in his voice caught her off guard. She grabbed the half empty bottle and stood. Hancock could sense how difficult it was for her to walk forward to the edge of the platform, leaning on the railing for support. He cautiously joined her, feeling like he might spook her into silence.

Silently, Payne looked out over the valley, but her mind raced miles away. “Can I bum a smoke?”

Hancock nodded as he pulled one from his pocket and lit it. The sight of her with a cigarette unnerved him. He supposed it was because he had never seen her smoke before. She glowing tip lit her face with a warm glow as she took a drag.

“I told you before that I left Vegas when things were shaping up for a war I wanted nothing to do with. I wandered aimlessly for years, with no real goal other than to survive. One night, while in a corner of some shantytown bar, I overheard a conversation of a couple of caravan workers.” She took a long drink from the bottle to fortify her nerves. “They were trading stories of strange vaults and settlements they had heard about in their travels. Places built on oilrigs or old ships. Vaults full of violent plant people… crazy things like that.” She flicked some ash.

“Well, maybe not so crazy.” Payne thought of Nate and his frozen family. “But then one started a yarn about a town on the east coast. Rumor had it that they paid for protected with literal blood. It look me months to find more information, but I eventually found out the town was in DC. Arefu.

“That’s why you were in DC.”

Payne nodded. “The place was only a few homes built on an overpass. Sure enough, a couple of guns up on top provided protection. After a few pretty blunt questions on my part, a guards walked me down underground and into the old Metro system.” She paused to feel the burn of the cigarette as it filled her lungs, the pain in some way soothing. “And there they were. _The Family_. That’s what they called themselves. There was about a dozen of them, self-proclaimed vampires. That’s what their leader, Vance, fashioned them into being. Sure, they kept out of the sun and drank blood, but in truth, most of them were little more than cannibals trying to stem their more murderous urges. Radiation or genetic accidents gave some of them some vampire-like traits, but none of them were like me. Not really.” She took another drink. “But they welcomed me with open arms.”

Payne paused, her mind catching on their faces, frozen in snap shots. “I lived under Vance’s rules for nearly a year. He was darkly charismatic, trying so hard to keep the Family together and safe with his quasi-mystic mumbo jumbo.” She smirked to herself. “I didn’t believe the bullshit, but it was a place where I didn’t have to hide what I was. That was nice.”

Payne lightly pressed her fist against her lips before she swallowed more alcohol, trying to organize her thoughts. “On the anniversary of their agreement with Arefu they threw a huge celebration. We prepped for like a week. Everyone had a great time partying for hours. It was an open secret that Vance and his wife were pretty open with their relationship. She had been dropping hints that they fancied having some fun, so being seven sheets to the wind, I obliged and followed them back to their room.” Payne lowered her eyes. Her words caught in her throat.

“You don’t have to…” Hancock tried to soothe the storm passing over her face.

A motion with her had stopped him. Payne took a deep breath. “The next thing I remember is someone pounding on the door. They were… I…” She closed her eyes against the memories. “They were torn to pieces. I freaked. I grabbed what I could and ran as soon as they broke down the door. I ran naked through the wasteland as fast as I could. In broad daylight. I ran until my bones broke and I started coughing up blood… and then I keep running. I could have ran for days, I have no idea. I ran until I had nothing left. Somehow I drug myself under some sheet metal and just…” She pinched the last dregs of the cigarette in her lips and inhaled, the burning stinging her lungs. The pain reinforcing the memories of her shameful flight. “Eventually I started to wander again, eventually ending up in civilization a few years later.”

“Goodneighbor.”

“Yeah. That’s how I ended up on your doorstep, as it were. I’ve always had a weakness for flashy neon signs. And stupid hats.” She sheepishly grinned before tossing the butt over the railing.

Hancock huffed. “And here I thought it was my magnetic personality.” He paused. “Wait a minute. You don’t mind ghouls, you bat for both teams and you haven’t gotten laid in 200 some years? Damn it! It’s almost worth the whole threat of disembowelment just to get you in the sack!” Against her better judgement, Payne couldn’t suppress her snicker.

With a bit more seriousness Hancock added “Thanks for not eviscerating me, though.”

They stood in silence, the cool night breeze gently lifting the edges of Payne’s black hair. Payne studied the half empty bottle. With a sudden determination, she chugged the rest of the swill and pitched the bottle into the night. After hearing the satisfying crash of glass shattering below, she turned back to Hancock. It was the first time she had looked him the eyes since their kiss.

“Guess we should call it a night if you want to head back to Goodneighbor tomorrow... if you’ll still have me.”

“That shit isn’t easy to talk about. To lay it all out like that, ya feel me?” Hancock stuck out the crook of his arm. “We make one hell of a freak show.”

Payne took his arm. As they walked down the creaky metal stairs, it hit her that maybe guzzling the rotgut may not have been the best idea. She found herself drifting from side to side as the alcohol surged through her system. It was making her sloppy. Hancock ended up guiding her back to the main building so she didn’t trip and fall.

All of the beds seemed to be taken as Hancock looked through the door.

“Wait here for a minute. I’ll make sure the path is clear.” He slipped inside, leaving Payne outside. He did want to risk her knocking something over and waking everyone up in her current condition.

Payne waited impatiently, her arms swinging idly by her sides. Out of the corner of her eye, something yellow caught her attention. There was a pile of discarded yellow toy horse heads and legs, along with a partial pot of yellow paint. A slippery wicked idea slithered into Payne’s mind. She grabbed the pile and headed into the shadows.

A few minutes later Hancock returned but didn’t find Payne where he had left her. Following the sound of snickering and moaning metal, he found Payne on a ladder, yellow paint smeared across her face and hands.

“Payne, arts and crafts hour is over. Get down from there!”

“I’m not done yet!” She leaned back, revealing her handiwork. A trio of yellow pony heads were wired haphazardly to Nate’s power armor, yellow pain dripped down the steel exterior. “If Nate is going to the Glowing Sea, he is going to need something a little extra!” Payne pointed to some of her ‘improvements’ jubilantly. She had somehow managed to work extra gears and pistons into the joints.

“Jesus, Payne. He’s going to kill you.” Hancock moved in to try and get her down. “How the fuck did you do all that? I was only gone for ten minutes!”

“I’m not done!” she kicked him away, nearly losing her balance and toppling from the ladder. Hancock shook his head as he laughed. “You could at least give me a hand! Paint that knee thingy over there!”

Hancock, against his better judgement, grabbed the paintbrush from her and brushed a few strokes.

“Ha! Now you can’t tell Nate… or you’ll get in trouble too!”

Hancock looked at his hand, now sticky with bright yellow paint. “Even drunk you are dangerous!”

“Don’t you know it!”

After a few more tweaks, Payne placed a placard reading ‘Happy Trails, Partner!’ around the neck of the power armor, declaring her master piece finished. Only then did she let Hancock lead her to her cot for the night.


	25. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heading back home, Payne and Hancock run into a few problems.

[Antique Champagne Main Site](https://antiquechampagne.weebly.com/)

 

Hancock was sharing an early morning smoke break with a bleary-eyed Piper by the embers of the fire pit when Nate finally rounded the corner of the main building with a full rucksack in hand.

“What the FUCK?!” ricocheted across the Slog, shattering the peaceful morning stillness. From inside the building, several groggy moans arose from those still trying to sleep off their hangovers.

Nate stormed back into view, his face reddened with anger as he scanned around for the culprit. He locked on to Hancock. Hancock unsuccessfully tried to stifle a snicker and he snuffed his butt out on a nearby table.

Nate’s accusatory finger preceded him to the fire pit. “HANCOCK!” he shouted. “What the hell did you do to my armor!? It looks like a fucking tinker toy!”

Hancock put up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, brother, you’re barking up the wrong tree.” Nate’s eyes narrowed as he saw the yellow paint on Hancock’s out turned palm. Hancock shrugged. “I _may_ have helped a bit, but I only cleaned up the paint job… but it wasn’t my idea.”

Nate turned and marched towards the building. “PAYNE!” He stomped through the common room, heading for her cot. He brushed aside several ghouls grumbling protests and dodging more than one pillow tossed in his direction.

Payne was curled up facing the wall. As Nate neared, he saw in her limp arms loosely clutching a disembodied canary yellow horse limb. Taking her shoulder, he roughly shook her awake.

“Wake up, Picasso! You have some explaining to do!”

Payne opened her eyes to a world that swam around her. The morning light pierced her hungover brain. _Holy hell!_ She thought, Nate’s voice lost to the pulsing between her ears. It took a moment to focus enough to finally understand what Nate was shouting at her.

“What… what are you talking about?” she stammered after sitting up, still clutching the metal leg.

“Outside. Now.” He ordered.

Payne tried to find her helmet by feeling around with and hand by her feet, her eyes closed and head stock still. Movement was not her friend right now. She started to curse as she groped blindly when something metal rolled into her grasp, kicked by an unseen force. Looking up, she found Hancock looming over her, his red coat abase in the mix of morning sun and alcohol fueled light sensitivity.

“Better get that on quick…. Cause you’re in _trouble_!” He baited her, sounding like a tattletale in the schoolyard. He was trying hard to reign in a devilish smirk.

A gruff “ _Shut up”_ was all Payne could manage as she shoved her helmet on and tottered sluggishly outside. As she rounded the corner trailed by Hancock and was confronted by Nate. He stood, arms cross standing in front of his now obnoxiously yellow power armor. Another ghoul close by, hunched over and closely examining the armor. He stood up and whipped his brow with a dark orange scarf that hung around his neck.

“If you fucked up my armor, Payne, I will make you personally go out scavving today to find a replacement!” He turned to the ghoul. “What’s the damage, Arlen?”

“You won’t believe this, Nate.” He said. “These modifications… they actually augment the capabilities of the armor! See here? Those gears mesh damn near perfectly to increase the torque ratios of the powerlift system. I think they will actually make you move quicker.” He moved to another vantage point, putting his hand on the knee of the machine. “And here, these pistons added to the knee joint, they should add more power to the extension stroke. They should let you jump higher.” Arlen turned to Payne. “You did all this last night?”

Payne could barely follow what Arlen said, both with her pounding headache and lack of mechanical knowhow.

“Huh? Torque what?”

Hancock could no longer contain a fit of laughter. Nate was slack jawed.  Stunned silence, he looked incredulously at Payne and then back to her work.

Arlen faced Payne. “At least you found the pile of broken bits, not my good stash! I have to find another supply of yellow paint though… good job kid.” He patted her on the shoulder as he went back to tinkering in his little shed.

Hancock, finally recovered, clutched his aching sides. “Let’s get you some breakfast, Master Mechanic. I’ll have to remember to tell Fehr to hide all the art supplies and monkey wrenches next time we throw a party!” He started giggling again. “I don’t think Charlie would take too kindly to an upgrade!”

 

* * *

 

The morning dragged on slowly. Nate tested out his new power armor, begrudgingly agreeing that it performed better than anything he had tried in the past. It was well past noon when a quiet lunch brought everyone together again. Nate and Strong had a few more hours of preparation to complete before heading back to Diamond City, dropping Piper off before heading into the Glowing Sea. Hancock, on the other hand, was anxious to be on the road again. After doing a raucous round of goodbyes, Payne and Hancock were traveling through the Commonwealth, lead only by Hancock’s sense of direction.

They made good time, even with Hancock occasionally getting jabbed after taunting Payne about her extracurricular activities. Hancock was on point in front of Payne, looking back over his shoulder about to rib her again when he missed the edge of the rocky outcropping and roughly tumbled down the side. Payne quickly scrambled after him. She helped him right himself at the bottom of the hill as he dusted himself off, assuring her he was only a bit bruised, and no worse for wear.

“Maybe you should keep your eyes on the road instead of running your…” Payne was cut off by hoarse growl. Hancock froze. Out of the corner of her eye, Payne could make out a hulking silhouette. She turned slowly, looking down the slope she saw a yao guai reared up from its radstag carcass meal, it’s snarling muzzle red and bloody. Hancock, his eyes never wavering, reached for his shotgun on his back.

Payne put her hand on the barrel of the gun, gently pushing it down. With a finger to her lips, she wordlessly told him to quietly sit still. Hancock watched in shock as Payne slowly stood up, drawing the angry yao guai away from him. She was remarkably calm, her jaw set but the rest of her strangely serene. The hulking animal charged, but Payne stood unmoving before it. Hancock almost lost his nerve and took a shot before the beast stopped just a few feet from Payne and sniffed the air. Confused, it pawed at the ground. Payne reached out her hand and inched forward slowly. She didn’t even waver when it grunted a fierce warning before she touched the patchy skin of its forehead. Hancock’s mouth fell open. The creature seemed to calm at her touch. It let out a few staccato huffs, before returning to its meal. Without looking away, she motioned to Hancock to move along and out of sight. She joined him a few minutes later as him leaned against half buried bathtub.

“You are just the gift that just keep giving!” he shook his head in disbelief. “Spill the beans! What was that?”

Payne tried futilely to rub her aching temples through her helmet. Her head pounded worse than that morning’s hangover. She was realizing with a bit of dread that she may have overreached herself, particularly given her state earlier in the day. “Sometimes I can get a feel for things. We surprised her as much as she surprised us. That, mixed with the fact she felt she needed to defend her meal…” Her head reeled and she faltered. Hancock stood, giving her a bit of support as she steadied herself. “Sorry. That takes a lot out of me. Mind if we rest of a minute?” He guided her down to the lip of the tub.

After a minute she continued. “I bet you didn’t even see her cub, did you?”

Shock registered on Hancock’s face again. “No, I didn’t, and I count myself as a pretty observant guy.” He studied her aching frame. “You going to be alright?”

Payne nodded her head. “I just need a bit of a breather.” She let out a small sigh. “Sometimes you can just read an animal, know if it’s really out for blood… and sometimes just being calm is enough to send it on its way. It doesn’t always work.” She took a few more breaths. “That trick never works on cazadors. Thank god you don’t have any of those bastards out here.”

“What’s a cazador?”

Payne huffed a chuckle. “Hell beasts, as far as I am concerned. Giant flying wasp things…” She spread her arms as wide as they could go. “Wing span about that size. Fast. Hyper aggressive. Skin tough as carbon steel and territorial. They normally travel in groups and will swarm anything and everything in their path. Oh, and they have a poison stinger that would makes a black bloatfly feel like a puppy bite. _Not_ one of the things I miss about the Mojave.”

“You can’t do that calm trick to people?” Hancock asked.

“Nope. People are a whole different animal, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Well, I’m glad it worked. I don’t think I could find another body guard on such short notice out here.”

After a few moments, they set off again… a little more reserved. They barely made it into the outskirts of the city before night fell. The duo forced a door of a small abandoned apartment building and headed inside. After a quick sweep of the silent decaying lobby, they set up camp in the cleanest corner. Payne’s head had returned to normal, but she was still glad to be stopping for the night. A few hours of decent sleep would make the last leg back to Goodneighbor through the danger-filled city streets easier. Her muscles were weary and aching from the last few day’s exertions. Neither of them felt like cooking, so they quietly munched on a light meal of radroach jerky and cereal before decided Hancock would take first watch.

Payne settled onto a dusty couch and had just laid her head down when they heard the first scream. It pealed over and over again, echoing off the walls.  Their nerves now on edge and guns drawn, they slowly narrowed the source of the sound down to a half obstructed stairwell. Hancock motioned up with the muzzle of his shotgun. Cautiously, they crawled over the tumble of desks and inched up the dark concrete steps, trying to stay as silent as possible. Hancock quickly looked around the second floor while Payne covered the stairs, the gut curdling wails grew louder. They approached the third floor, inching along the shadows. A burning barrel sat in the large space where several apartment walls had collapsed, the flames throwing dancing light into the hallway and down the stairs. Inside, by the barrel, sat two figures calmly engaged in conversation, their faces covered by coarse metal helmets framed by jagged metal wings. Across the room third hooded figure leaned over a prone figure strapped to a dining table. As they watched, the hooded figure steadily flayed the flesh from the chest from their noisily convulsing victim. Somehow the cheerful brightly striped stockings of the victim made the scene even more grotesque.

“Hey Jimmy, do you want my ball gag for that guy? I’m getting a headache over here!” she yelled over the screaming. She turned to her compatriot by the fire and snickered. “I wonder if those Pack fuckers are this loud in the sack, too!” The raider next to her cackled.

Payne pulled out here rifle, motioning to Hancock to concentrate on the two by the fire as she set up her line on the butcher. Glancing back at Hancock, he pulled out a grenade and readied it. Payne smiled and nodded in agreement at his choice, hunkering down behind the hallway wall. Tactically, explosives aren’t really the best option for such close quarters fighting, but these psychos didn’t deserve such practicality, in her mind. Payne lined up her shot. When she heard the pin slide out, she held her breath and fired.

The butcher’s head pitched forward as the bullet struck, slumping him over the table and across his prey. The other two jumped up, reaching for their weapons when the grenade landed at their feet, exploding with a concussive boom, sending pieces of them flying.

Hancock had had enough time to cover his ears, but Payne’s hands were still holding her rifle when the grenade detonated. Her ears rang as Hancock popped his head into the doorway, turning back with a smile and a nod. She could barely hear his words, but she gathered there was nothing left moving in the room. He moved confidently into the apartment, already scanning to anything useful to pocket. Raiders were normally good for some chems in the least.

Payne stood slowly, quickly checking her gun before putting the safety back on. Her ears started to recover, but the painful ringing slowed her gait. She was taken by complete surprise when a nearly invisible hand shimmered into existence over her mouth. In her shock, she nearly missed the sting of the knife slicing into her lower back. Almost immediately her knees buckled. Her vision dimmed as her blood pressure plummeted. She tried to call out, to fight back, but she seemed to float and fall at the same time. Time and motion froze… like the moment before falling, a body suspended indefinitely, before gravity inevitably kicks in and painfully pulls it towards the ground.

The foreign hands guided her to the ground, Payne’s arms still out stretched, grabbing at the image of Hancock wavering in front of her. Right before the whole world fell away into blackness, she heard a toxically sweet southern voice chime into her ear, somehow both intimately close and extremely distant.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Your little ghoul-friend will be joining you soon enough. You just take a little nap now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for a bit of a bumpy ride... this was a hard chapter to pin down. I don't expect the next few to be any better.


	26. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Payne looses control.

[Antique Champagne main site](https://antiquechampagne.weebly.com/)

_Nothingness. A great endless expanse. In that Nothingness, Warmth grew, overwhelming the Nothing, becoming the Warmth. Time, place, form... they did not exist in this pure pulsing Warmth. Light soon appeared, condensing out of the Warmth, giving the world direction. The Light grew and merged with the Warmth. This place was so familiar, an incubator for the Self as it grew into being._

_Something called across the void._

“Payne” _something called through the Warmth. The word was known, familiar. The Self found itself drawn to it, pulled out of the Warmth and into the Light. The Self ran, until it encountered a barrier, the Warmth coalescing, barring the way to the Light._

“PAYNE?!” _The voice, growing urgently with alarm, sent_ _the Self into a frenzy. It threw itSelf against the barrier frantically. Bright cracks spread like a web across the Warmth’s barrier. When the pieces fell away, the Self fell through, consumed by the Light._

Payne blinked, controlling the only part of her body she could. Therefore, she blinked with purpose. She could not see. That would come later. Each blink brought a bit more of herself back under her own control, slowly driving the Hunger out.

“Are you in there, Payne? What’s going on…”

Payne instantly recognized Hancock’s voice, steeped in confusion and distress. She fought even more for control of her disobeying body. Soon she could see, her vision clouded, red and muddy. She could taste the coppery remnants of the warm blood that dripped from her open mouth, whispering decadent memories of a once beating meal. A crumpled corpse lay dropped at her feet, the head nearly ripped from its body.

Hancock stood before her, defensively holding his knife out to her. Numerous angry bleeding defensive slashes laced across his hands and upper arms. A line even snaked across his cheek, dangerously close to one eye. He jabbed a stimpak into his thigh, still holding his weapon up with his other hand, as he slowly backed away. The Hunger pulled Payne forward, closing the distance between them.

His thinly veiled fear and confusion triggered Payne to seize control of her muscles, freezing them where she stood. It took all of her power to keep herself in place. The Hunger roiled inside her, furious at being denied its next meal.

“Payne?”

“ _MORE_ ” The Hunger had forced the word from her frozen throat.

Hancock pulled out the flask from the interior of his coat, tossing it to her. Payne snatched it in midair with one white knuckled hand. She gagged as she drained the flask, the Hunger raging against the cold dead blood. She forced her shoulders to down, her posture starting to resemble a more human stance. Even so, Hancock continued to step back.

“Be careful.” Payne warned, voice was still gruff but returning to normal.

Mid-step, his elbow bumped into the butcher’s prone body, throwing the gory balancing act perched on the table off kilter. As the butcher fell to the floor with a meaty thump, the unconscious victim awoke, eyes blazing open and mouth screaming. Startled, Hancock slipped on the blood-covered floor, landing prone as the Hunger ripped control from Payne’s grip, fueled purely by predatory instinct. Vaulting over Hancock, Payne hunched over the raider on the table, ripping into this exposed neck. Within seconds Hancock recovered to his feet, the attack was over. Payne felt the Hunger finally retreat, sated.

Payne slowly sat up, staring down in front of her at the gruesome remnants of the prone man on the table. Somehow this was more palatable than seeing Hancock’s reaction. That she couldn’t take. Without saying a word, she slid off the table opposite Hancock. In front of her was a doorway, open to the fire escape.

 _Escape_.

That seemed as good of an idea as any at this point. She silently slipped out, leaving the Hancock in the room alone save for corpses. Out on the rusted scaffolding, Payne figured she could kill two birds with one stone: avoiding both Hancock’s response to her monstrous fuck up and allowing him the space to feel safe leaving. She wiped her face as she leaned wearily on the apartment’s façade.

Payne couldn’t hide her disbelief when Hancock stepped through the doorway a few moments later to join her.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked. She still didn’t have the courage to look him in the face.

“It’s pretty hard to ask questions if the other person runs away. What happened to you in there? Because it looked like you weren’t… _you_ … for a while.” Without drawing attention to his actions, he smoothly sheath his knife.

Payne was confused. This wasn’t how people should reacted to seeing her lose control like that… though normally no one was left breathing by the time she came back from falling over the edge. Her hand idly rubbed her back, the incision made by the raider barely registering under her fingertips.

“The bitch with the stealth-boy. We must have passed right by her… she got me right in the kidney. I guess I bled out in seconds.”

Hancock’s eyes narrowed. “You bled out? You mean you died?”

Payne shrugged. “I’m not really sure, maybe.”

“What? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I don’t know… all I know is the basic upshot seems to be; if my heart stops, I wake up on a pile of bodies. I don’t really know what goes on in between. This is something I try to avoid, to be honest.”

“But you’re here now?”

Payne nodded. Hancock went silent. Payne kept waiting for him to turn and leave her out on the fire escape.

“Look. Personally, I’m more of a live and let live kinda guy. Kill all the raiders you want, whatever. They deserve it in my book.” He let out a little huff through his nasal cavity. “But I have a town full of people to keep safe.”

 _Here it comes_. Thought Payne. Her shoulders tensed and jaw set, ready for the blow. Why didn’t he just leave, it would be so much easier.

“So…You tell me _everything_.” He looked at her squarely in the face. “Start to finish. I need to know what is going on with you, and how to deal if shit hits the fan. Or…” he crossed his arms “You’re fired. You are no longer welcome in Goodneighbor. You get your stuff and get out.”

As he spoke, Payne finally looked at him, her eyes wide. He was giving her an ultimatum. _This_ she was not expecting. Her mind went blank as it scrambled to come up with some kind of response.

“That might take a while.” Payne eventually muttered.

“It’s not like I have anywhere better to be, so start spilling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit on the short side, but the next one is probably going to be on the long side... so I think it balances out.


	27. Home Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a flashback, Payne tells Hancock about the day the bombs fell and her world changed forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my longest chapter... plus there aren't a lot of 'good feels' to be had.

Dahlia stood in front of the bathroom mirror, her wet hair wrapped in a towel on the top of her head. She examined her face, searching for any new red patches or bruises she might have to cover for the day. Luckily, since the autumn had cooled off a blazing Nevada summer, she could easily hide the blemishes under a light long sleeve sweater and slacks. She opened the drawer full of makeup and began to lay the foundation thickly on her sickly pale cheeks and forehead.

She had been getting up early for months now. Her mom had started noticing the change in her normally nocturnal daughter. According to her friends at the ranch, her mom thought her new early morning routine was for a new boyfriend.

_Let her think that_. Dahlia thought. _She’s been so upbeat lately, thinking I am primping for someone. Let her be happy for a bit. She deserves it._

While staring intently at her face applying blush in the mirror, the red of the compact momentarily became a bright splash of blood on the dripping down the shower curtain. Dahlia’s breath caught in her throat and her heart raced, throwing dark spots in front of her eyes. Looking again, she realized the trick her eyes had played on her. It had almost been a year, and she still had flashes of finding Aden. She wished secretly they had ripped the damn shower out, replacing it with anything else… but her mother was right. They didn’t have the money to replace the bathroom. So she forced herself to use it, to stand where he had ended his life. She returned to the job at hand, she had to keep up appearances.

With a satisfied sigh, she finished putting the few final touches on her makeup mask. Pulling the towel down, damp dark curls fell to past her shoulders. She hoped that after today she would be lucky and keep her hair. Her mom could sniff out a wig at 40 paces, there would be no hiding the fact she was sick from her then.

The ringing phone broke through the predawn stillness. She could barely make out her mother’s voice answering it across the hall as she tossed her hair in the towel. She certainly heard the cursing more clearly after the receiver hit its cradle with a plastic crack.

“That son-of-a- _BITCH_!” her mother roared. “Why does he think the Wild Rose is her personal freaking punching bag?”

“What’s wrong, mom?” Dahlia asked through the closed door.

“The inspector is up at the ranch again, basically trying to break down the door trying to get in!”

“Didn’t we just have inspections like… 2 months ago?”

“We sure did. I bet _Mr. House_ sent a few new boys down to try and dig up some dirt on us.”

“But we passed!”

“My guess is now they are just making shit up. House just can’t stand that we aren’t under his thumb and we don’t treat our people like a bunch of robots.” Her voice was right outside the door. “I know you like to take your time in here, Dahl, but could you hurry it up? I need to get down to the ranch as soon as I can.”

Dahlia finished as quickly as she could, giving herself another once over before leaving the bathroom and slipping down the claustrophobic hall to the kitchen. As she nibbled on a piece of toast, her mother finished and joined her.

“I wish you could come with me. If they sent Dennis, this might be over quick enough that we can reopen before the after lunch rush shows up.”

“Sorry mom, but this appointment can’t be rescheduled.”

“Dentist, right?” her mom asked between sips of scalding hot coffee.

“Yeah... something like that.” Dahlia hated lying to her mom, so she took the opportunity to throw her half eaten toast in the trash and wash up her plate.

“I like that sweater. Are you feeling okay? My _real_ daughter wouldn’t be caught dead in anything brighter than a navy!” She loved to rib her about her favorite color, always blamed Dahlia’s love of black on her being born on Halloween. “But seriously, the purple brings out your eyes nicely.” Her mom popped a slice of apple in her mouth.

“Do you think you’ll be done by lunch?” she asked between bites.

“Maybe. As soon as I am done, I’ll stop by work… we can play it by ear after that.” Dahlia half smiled. She hoped she wouldn’t feel too tired to join her. “Don’t forget to stop by the Super-Duper Mart and see if they have lemons yet. I haven’t seen any for a few weeks now.”

“Are you worried that this year you won’t get your favorite birthday cake?”

“You always make me lemon cake! We can’t break the tradition! And don’t gripe on how hard it is to make and you always have to make it alone… _you_ refuse to share the recipe, so I can’t even offer to help!”

Her mom chuckled, then glanced at the clock on the wall. “Shit!” she spat. “I got to go. Can you take care of this for me?” She handed her daughter her coffee.

Dahlia nodded as her mom gave her a peck on the cheek and sped out the door.

“Have fun at your dentist appointment!” she called as the door shut behind her.

Dahlia slowly puttered around the kitchen. She debated on catching a quick nap before calling a cab, but decided against it. She couldn’t risk oversleeping. Not today.

She grabbed the hospital’s preadmission paperwork hidden in her desk drawer. She had filled it out a week ago, but she went over everything again. As she waited on the couch for the cab to arrive, her nerves started to get to her. She leafed through the pamphlets and things her oncologist had given her. Medical terms made about as much sense to her as astral physics, but she had grown familiar with a few terms. Her fingers traced the title of the bright blue letters on the top pamphlet, full of fake smiling faces and bright obnoxious colors.

SO YOU HAVE LEUKEMIA!

“Fuck this.” She threw the pile on the coffee table, spilling them sloppily onto the floor. It took a moment to compose herself enough to get down on her knees to gather them all back up.

Right then she heard the cab honk from outside. “Seriously…” she grumbled. By the second honk she was out the front door.

“Las Vegas Cancer Center, please.” She gave the address to the driver. Even though they hit a bit of the morning commute traffic, she was nearly a half an hour early to her appointment.

The waiting room was comfortable enough. Dahlia counted herself lucky the office staff had not had a chance turned on the television yet. She was sick of all the news coverage. It was exhausting to keep up with it all; she simple did not have the brain capacity to try.

She tried to distract herself by reading an old magazine, but found her mind wandering to her last visit. Her doctor had informed her about an experimental treatment. They were sure was perfect fit to fix her malfunctioning blood cells. Dahlia had a hard time keeping up with all of it, but she knew it involved injecting radioactive…something… directly into her bone marrow. Was it supposed to kill the cells… or was it boost them? She couldn’t remember. She did remember the doctor telling her she would be sedated for the procedure and she might feel tired and nauseous afterwards.

_Welcome to my life! That’s how I feel all the time!_ She chided to herself.

She couldn’t believe it was only six months ago that she had collapsed on stage during rehearsal. Luckily, her mother wasn’t there that night. Her friends had rushed her to the hospital where she was poked and prodded, then unceremoniously sent home. It wasn’t until a week or so later that she got the results in the mail, that stupid pamphlet with the smiling idiots on the front, and a referral to an oncologist. The rest was a whirlwind of test and doctors, all while trying to hide her deteriorating health from her mom. At least it would be all over soon… at least she hoped so.

“Dahlia Mansfield?” a man in a lab coat called. He introduced himself as Dr. Patterson, an assistant to her doctor, Dr. Zheng. She followed him back to an exam room. He took her paperwork and asked her the same questions over again, as if she was taking some kind of medical memory test. He then left her in the room to change into a hospital gown.

Nudity was nothing new to Dahlia. She had grown up around all kinds, given she spent so much time with her mom as she worked to keep the Wild Rose Ranch operating smoothly. She even partook in a bit of the burlesque aspects of performing once she was old enough, but sitting nearly naked wrapped in only a paper thin wrap on the cold examining table was disconcerting.

Dr. Patterson returned with a wheel chair.

“Is that really necessary?” Dahlia asked.

“It’s hospital policy. Plus it is a bit of a walk to the procedure room.” As she sat down, her gown opened slightly, exposing her cleavage as the man looked down to adjust something with the foot rests. “You look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”

“I don’t think so.”

As he pushed her through the seemingly never ending corridors, he kept probing her with questions. Dahlia was in no mood to converse, so she kept her answers short and terse. Finally they arrived at the procedure room. Dahlia got up from the wheelchair, being careful to keep the gown in place. Something about her pose jogged the man’s memory.

“Now I remember!” He blurted. “That cat house off the strip… the Wild... something. I’m sure I saw you dance there!” He seemed a bit too eager. “What was your name?”

Dahlia just stood, arms crossed, and glowered at him until it finally dawned on him that asking a nearly naked woman at the hospital for an experimental medical procedure probably wasn’t the best time to ask if she took her clothes off for money.

“The doctor should be here in a few minutes.” He said sheepishly as he left the room. From the other side of the door, Dahlia could hear him finally remember her stage name. _Champagne_.

It was nearly another half an hour before the door opened again. Dr. Zheng greeted her with a firm handshake. As she sat listening to Dr. Zheng explain the procedure with her authoritative voice droning on, the scent of roses distracted Dahlia. Dr. Zheng’s perfume triggered a buried memory of sitting on her grandmother’s lap and listening to music. She found herself lost in the remembrance of it.

“Are you ready to proceed?”

Dahlia snapped her attention back to the woman sitting in front of her. “Yes.”

The doctor guided her to what looked like a recliner with extra-long arm and foot rests, covered with paper. Dahlia sat.

“The technicians will be in momentarily to get the IV started and prep for the procedure.”

Soon a handful of nurses appeared, pushing carts covered with blue cloths. One pushed her cart up on Dahlia’s left side.

“I’m going to start your IV. Are you squeamish around needles?” Dahlia shook her head no. “Okay, that’s good. Would you like me to turn on the TV for you or open the blinds? The view is pretty nice from up here. You can see the Strip quite well on this side of the building.”

“Both, please.” Dahlia wasn’t sure what would make her more relaxed, she felt like a tightly wound spring. The nurse soon returned. She put a large tight fitting restraint over her arm that held her upper arm tightly against the chair and then, through one of the many holes strategically placed along the length, cleaned her arm with something astringent that made her nose wrinkle.

“These help guide the machine and keep the whole system in alignment. They are modeled after power armor frames”

Dahlia nodded even though that fact didn’t really make her feel any more at ease.

“Take a deep breath for me, please.” She felt a quick pinch near elbow and the needle was set in her skin. “In a few minutes you may start to feel a bit loopy. That’s the sedative.” She moved down and secured her leg to the chair with a restraint sleeve. Another nurse on her right strapped down her left arm and leg. For a moment, Dahlia could feel the rush of adrenaline course through her body as the fact she could not move hit her, but as soon as it hit, she felt the rush of the sedatives rise to meet it. She immediately calmed down.

The nurse to her left put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We’ll take good care of you, don’t worry. We will be right on the other side of the wall. Just call if you need anything.” They left.

About five dizzy minutes later, Dahlia heard the door behind her open again. A giant tank was wheeled in next to her along with other strange looking contraptions she could not name. What really held her attention, or what was left of it, was the people wearing spacemen getups.

One of them must have noticed Dahlia staring and turned to her. “This is the radiation cocktail.” They patted the tank. “You’re getting a fresh batch made up this morning.” The voice sounded like the nurse from earlier spoken through a metal pipe. “Next we are going to line everything up. It might take a little bit.”

“Take all the time you need.” Dahlia didn’t have the slightest care about how long anything took… or that they were maneuvering what looked to be giant hypodermic needles up with her arms and legs. Under the constraints of the chair, mixed with the chemical cocktail swimming through her blood, her limbs felt heavy and dead. The talking heads on the TV droned on, but the colors on their shirts floated this way and that pleasantly enough.

A heavily gloved hand patted Dahlia on the shoulder.

“We’re going to leave now. This next part might be a bit uncomfortable. Don’t worry, we’ll be watching, remember?”

Dahlia thought she nodded, but wasn’t really sure. The door shut and locked behind her. She watched the smiling faces bounce across the television screen.

A crackling speaker interrupted the toothy parade. “We’re going to start advancing the needles. You may feel some discomfort. Please try to keep still.” That was going to be easy. Dahlia didn’t feel like moving at all.

One by one, the needles plunged into her skin, digging deep. Eventually they hit the bones, but kept boring through. Pressure was all Dahlia felt, which was easily enough ignored. The dancing heads were more entertaining than the needles anyway. A light started blinking on the canister. Dahlia watched with detached curiosity as the glowing green liquid snaked along the tangle of tubes, eventually filling the needles. Now her limbs felt warm, almost throbbing. She started to feel prickly discomfort dance through her brain, some part of her body rebelling against the drugs. The constraints now started to feel confining, the room turning claustrophobic.

“How are you feeling?” hissed the speaker behind her.

“Not that good. I think I need to get up.”

“Hold on, one second. We’ll help you calm down.”

Nearly instantaneously, another wave of chemicals washed into her bloodstream remotely. A pleasant fog enveloped Dahlia’s mind, pushing any notion of pain or anxiety far away. She went back to those pleasant bobbing smiles, every other sense was pushed far into the background of her consciousness.

She was barely registered when the air raid claxons started to blaze somewhere down the hall. Some part of her remembered the sound meant something important, but it didn’t seem that significant at the moment. Screams and shouts floated lazily to hear ears, but they were too far away to illicit any meaningful response. Colorful flames streaking across the sky drew her attention away from the TV. She gazed with little attachment to the world as missiles from downtown arced up to greet the incoming warheads. The explosions reminded Dahlia of the Fourth of July… but didn’t the fireworks normally go off when it was dark outside? They really should have waited until night time. The shockwaves buffeted the building, shaking the windows in their frames.

“Niiicce.” Slurred Dahlia. After a while, the only sounds were the klaxons, still shrilly screaming away, but nothing else reached her ears. Even the TV had gone dark. She floated for a while, enjoying the warmness coursing through her until she drifted off to dreamless sleep.

Hours later, Dahlia woke, pain leeching through the crumbling wall defending her senses. Everything was silent, the room only lit by the open windows and a few emergency lights. Her arms and legs ached, and if she tried to move them, they tugged painfully on the metal forced through her flesh. Her stomach turned and roiled.

“Hello?” she called. “I’m feeling pretty rough.”

Silence.

“Could you turn up the drugs?”

Nothing. The only sound was the whisper of the machine slowly and methodically pushing poison into her bones. She called repeatedly, never receiving an answer. Looking out the windows to the distant city below, alight with dozens of roaring fires and smoldering craters, her half-crystallized memories triggered a terrible realization. No one was coming to release her. She was trapped with a bird’s eye view of the end of the world.

“No…no…no…” Dahlia stammered as the recognition of the magnitude of what was happening took hold in her brain, breaking every attempt at thought or rationalization. Her body shook uncontrollably, locked painfully in place.

Hour after hour ticked away as she had no choice but to watch the buildings burn, occasionally punctuated by some distant explosion as a tank of something finally gave way. She felt her body growing weaker as the irradiated slurry spread through her system. Her thoughts turned to her mother. Was she even still alive? Was she alone, or with someone who would help her? Did she make it to the grocery store?

Dahlia looked at the tank set up next to her, glowing lightly in the darkened room. From what she could see, the tank looked to be about two thirds gone. She tried futilely to reach the tank, to touch the buttons that might stop or turn of the machine, but her bonds held her firmly in place.

Waves of pain passed over her, racking her muscles. She started to become delirious, thinking she heard phantom footsteps or voices behind her. She tore at her constraints, drawing fresh blood from the needles. She lost control of her bodily functions. She may have felt embarrassed once, but now there was no one around to shame her.

_So this is what it is like to die from radiation poisoning._ Dahlia thought before losing consciences again.

Only she didn’t die. She woke up again, this time ravenously hungry and thirsty. She took some solace that the tank was now empty and the needles had been programed to retract. It was a small kindness to her exhausted body. It was hours until she passed out again.

Days passed, and this cycle replayed itself over and over, Dahlia growing ever more hungry and thirsty until they seemed to bleed together into one mass of needy pain which accompanied the agony of the radiation destroying her from the inside out. When she would wake during the night, she found the sheer darkness of the city disturbing. Las Vegas had been a city of light for nearly as long as it had existed. Nightfall should have brought the glow of countless neon bulbs blazing, but nearly nothing blinked to life in the dark nights. The city was dead.

Dahlia had lost track of time, everything rolled into one march of pain, hunger, and dreamless sleep. One evening as she watched the clouds streaked color from the setting sun, the emergency signal light blinked out, followed by every light she could see around her in the room going black. Suddenly, the constraints that had held her down for so long popped open.

Dahlia froze. The change frightened her, so she waited and held her breath, but nothing happened. Her body screamed at her as she tried to move, her muscled flaccid, full of burning acid. She attempted to rise, but only succeeded in spilling her body grotesquely on the floor. Painfully, slowly, she inched her way to the door. It took an enormous amount of concentration and energy to pull herself up and try the handle. It opened easily at her touch.

Then it dawned on her… the emergency generators had failed. There before her was an endless pitch-black hallway. She wanted to run down it, finally escape this hell, but she soon fell back into unconsciousness. The exertion was too much.

Dahlia woke again, sprawled on the floor. This time the sun was up, throwing slanted patches of warm light across her and into the empty hall. Calling on energy she wasn’t sure she had, she staggered down the hallway. She found an open office with a water cooler. She greedily drank the last few dregs. She found a single stick of gum in a desk drawer. Greedily she stuck it in her mouth before continuing down the hall. At the end, she found the stairwell and headed cautiously down in the dark. Putrid smells wafted through doorways as she passed abandoned floors. Her mind created horrific scenes of the patients left to die in their beds, now puddles of person-shaped ooze.

She vaguely remembered that the cafeteria was on the first floor, so she soldiered on until she found a door that she thought might connect. With nothing to guide her, she headed towards any noise or light she could detect. This led her to the main atrium, the once grand entry way to the center. Its tall wall of windows facing the street shattered, bodies littering the floor. Dahlia kept to the shadows, fearful of any looters who might still be lingering about. At least with all the light, she could read the placards on the walls and quickly found her way to the cafeteria wing.

She tried to push open the large door to the cafeteria, but something barred her way. Looking down through the small crack she could manage to open, she saw the bloated body of a dead orderly blocking it. She heard something clatter to the floor in the distance. Carefully, she pushed the door open enough to allow her to gain entry, trying hard not to make noise that might draw the attention of whatever might be inside.

She crept close to the buffet tables. Though once they were piled high with food, they were now scraped empty, whatever was left sat crusty and rotten. She was surprised not to see more flies buzzing about, given the state of the room. Dahlia went past them into the darkened kitchen. A faint light bobbed and swayed in the distance. She followed it, crouching behind stainless steel counters and baking racks. In a corner freezer, she spied the silhouette of someone rummaging through food containers, lit by a single candle placed on a freezer shelf. Something unfamiliar wafted through the air. She couldn’t place her finger on it, but it wasn’t like the rotten food and flesh that dotted the area, something metallic, like ozone, but sweet. Dahlia placed a hand on the counter to steady herself. As she did a ladle fell noisily to the floor.

The person in the freezer spun around, arm outstretched in front of her, brandishing a knife. “Leave me the fuck alone!” she screamed. Dahlia noticed her other arm hung limply, wrapped in a poorly improvised sling, blood seeping through the fabric. “Come out where I can see you!” The woman’s eyes were wild. Dahlia had a hint of recognition upon seeing the woman’s face. It was the nurse that had placed her IV. She was even wearing the same scrubs as she wore the last time Dahlia had seen her.

“I don’t mean you any harm.” Said Dahlia. “I’m just looking for something to eat too.” She stepped into the dim light. “Were you my nurse?”

The nurse’s eyes narrowed. “So what if I was. That doesn’t mean jack shit now.” The knife did not waver.

For some reason, Dahlia found herself drawn to look at the sling, her eyes lingering on the blotchy patterns the nurse’s blood. She knew she should be watching her face or, in the very least, the knife… but the red was so alluring, such a beautiful shade, even here in the shadows.

The nurse looked behind her, confused, thinking maybe Dahlia was looking at the food containers just beyond her. “Fuck off. Go sniffing somewhere else for food.” The nurse started to advance towards her.

“Hey… I’m not…” Before Dahlia could finish, the woman slashed the knife in her face. The swing was more of a warning than an attack, missing her skin by nearly a foot, but it startled Dahlia into action. Dahlia easily sidestepped and, without even thinking, she took advantage of the heavy freezer door. Heaving it with whatever strength she had left, the steel door careened into the nurses injured arm and sent yelping back into the freezer. The door lazily swung back out, blood splattered on the handle. Dahlia was transfixed again, watching the crimson pattern glisten in the candlelight.

“STUPID BITCH!” the woman roared. “You have any idea how hard that was to stitch up? You’re going to pay for that!”

Dahlia hardly moved as the nurse started to barreled forward, intending to knock her off her feet.  Part of her noticed the proximity of more fresh blood, grabbing her attention. Grabbing her leading hand, she forced the nurse’s knife to the side, pushing her to the floor. During the ensuing tussle, Dahlia felt strangely detached from it all. She knew the woman probably meant to kill her, or injure her enough to get away. That did not seem to matter, she kept coming back to the injured arm and the blood oozing from the popped stitched. The knife was the deciding factor in the fight; she needed to even up the odds. She felt like she was watching from outside of herself as she viscously bit down on the nurse’s wrist, breaking the skin and crushing the tendons underneath.

“FUCK!” The nurse dropped the knife, but Dahlia did not let go. Blood flooded in to her mouth. Part of her knew she should let go, to attack some other part of the woman’s body… that she should be repulsed by what she was doing… but she clenched down harder. The nurse grabbed a nearby skillet with her free hand, bringing it down on Dahlia’s head with a crack.

The blow reverberated through Dahlia’s skull, forcing her even further from herself, like shoving a unmoored boat from a dock. She was adrift with no way to right herself. She floated so far, she could only watch as she started ripping into the nurse’s body, tearing bloody holes as the nurse screamed. Dahlia watched in detached horror as she started to lick and suck the bloody wounds. With every ounce of will she had, she forced herself back, but it was too late. The nurse had stopped screaming… and breathing.

Back in control, Dahlia skittered off the body disgusted, blood dripping down her face and neck. But, _God_ , it felt good. She rubbed her arms, surprised to find the huge painful abscesses left by the needles were quickly disappearing. Dahlia could feel something warm slowly spreading to every extremity. She felt on fire, the radiation sickness leaving her, replaced with a newfound strength. She had not felt this good in months, maybe years. Something in her was changing, but she had no idea what.

* * *

 

“That’s about all of it. It look me decades of work so that I didn’t just attack every human I saw on sight… and an embarrassingly amount more until I could be around people with even a paper cut. Now, it takes a lot of trauma to see that side of me to come out.” Payne sighed. She was emotionally exhausted. No one else knew this much about her. She finally looked up at Hancock as he leaned against the railing of the fire escape, a cigarette between his fingers.

“Damn! I guess that is one way to become a ghoul… plus you got to keep your hair and skin, you lucky dog.”

“Yeah, but there are a few drawbacks. Sunlight and the whole blood drinking thing. I give it a 2 out of 10, would not try again.” She motioned to his sleeves. “Did I do that?” she asked sheepishly.

“This?” He played with the holes sliced in the fabric of his coat. “Nah. That lovely lady on the floor in there was quite insistent on carving me up like a Christmas turkey… not that I know what that is.” He took a more serious tone. “So… if the nice-you decides to check out again... what do I do? Other than piss myself, apparently.”

Payne thought for a second. “Med-X is your best shot. I can’t take a bite out of anyone if my muscles don’t work.” Appearing to clear the fog, she shook her head. “I have to say, this was the first time I remember ever being _called_ back.”

“Called back?”

“Yeah, I could actually hear you a bit through all that. Normally, I just wake up on a pile of bodies.” A pair of ragged crows squawked above them, fluttering off when Payne finally got back to her feet. The catwalk groaned and vibrated under the shift in weight. “Anything else you want to know? Before you make your decision?”

“Yeah, one thing.” He flicked the butt over the railing. “Where was your mom?” Payne looked at him, confused. “Did she ever make it to the grocery store?”

Not sure where he was going with this, Payne simply said, “I found her outside the house, shot in the back by some looters. I threw quite the ‘Welcome Home’ party for myself before I buried her… and those bastards footed the bill in blood.”

Hancock smiled as he adjusted his hat. “And that right there, Dream Girl, is why I’m going to keep you on. You take care of the people that you care about, no matter what. Making sure those who cross you pay… well, that’s just a bonus, in my opinion.” He strode confidently back into the building. “I think you have a new knife to claim… if you can find it in all this mess. That fucker’s sharp!”

Payne’s muscles finally relaxed a bit as she rubbed the small of her back. “You’re telling me!”


	28. Sleep Walking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Payne can't get her past from haunting her. Will a trip to the Memory Den help her clear away the cobwebs or create more problems?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dementia (1955)
> 
> Author's Note: This is my first chapter to be beta read by Ashcroft Writes. I hope to keep improving as a writer by having another set of eyes on my projects. Please take a look at their fics... they are awesome! Show them some love!

 

The rest of the trek back to Goodneighbor was unusually silent.  Payne found her mind playing the whole disastrous return trip over and over as they avoided super mutant patrols and raider nests. Not only was she worried about how much damage she had caused with Hancock confidence in her, but rehashing her past had dredged up old baggage she thought long since buried. She started to second guess every interaction with him, over analyzing her word choices, how he reacted to her.

She adjusted the new knife strapped to her thigh for no particular reason, trying to break herself free from her intrusive thoughts. The long elegantly curved blade extended from below the wrist, ending in a viciously pointed tip. She found a deeply scratched “D” in the handle when they made a pit stop, wondering what significance the letter might have had.

Fahrenheit met them at the door to the Old State House, ushering Hancock in with a disgruntled look, several papers in her hand.

“No rest for the wicked!” Hancock shrugged before disappearing inside.

Payne took her leave, needing to clean up after the trip. For the next week, she went through the motions: guarding Hancock, patrolling, even half-listening to Magnolia sing in The Third Rail. She found her mind under assault by random memories at random times that clung to her and spread like a poisonous vine.

Walking back to her hotel room one morning in a fog, mentally exhausted after a night of slow drinking. As she rounded the corner, she found the Memory Den looming in front of her. She had never given much thought to the wares the establishment pedaled. The past was something she rarely thought about. She found it not worth disturbing the long settled dust… but now? The past pressed up against her mind, bleeding through to the present. Before she had realized it, her hand was pushing open the doors.

Irma looked up in surprise. “Well, good morning to you, sweetheart! Isn’t it a bit early for a social call? Kent’s probably still in his pajamas.”

Payne looked around nervously. “This… isn’t a social call, Irma.” She paused, unsure how to proceed.

“Just last week we paid our… _oh_.” Irma caught Payne eyeing the closest memory lounger and thought a moment. “Let me go see if Dr. Amari’s up, dear. Give me a minute.” Irma rose from her chaise lounge. “I’m not promising anything. Amari’s pretty stringent when it comes to screening new clients.” An easy smile curled her rosy lips. “At least I know you’re good for the caps.”

Alone, Payne listened to the strange rhythmic humming emitted by the machines surrounding her. She pressed her hand to the cold glass, peering inside. She was contemplating walking out, embarrassed to even be standing in the lobby, when Dr. Amari appeared.

“The memory loungers are complex pieces of equipment. Please don’t lean on them,” chided the doctor. Payne straightened up and quickly removed her hand. “Irma says you’re interested in our services. She also seems to think you could endure the procedure. Reliving memories… can be quite jarring if you haven’t prepared properly.”

“I been in here enough to know the spiel, Amari. I’m not going to live in a pod like Kent. I just want to... see some family I haven’t seen in a long time. That’s all.”

“Memories with people are easier, especially ones with loved ones,” Irma said. “Just focus on them, and you should do just fine.”

“Fine.” Amari said curtly. Money changed hands. “Just sit down in a lounger. Focus on a strong memory while I lock onto it.”

Payne laid down on the plush reclined chair of an open pod. She was glad to see a lack of restraints as the glass dome lowered around her. A television monitor suspended inches from her face, crackling with static and snow.

“All right. I’m scanning the hippocampus now. Good. Synchronizing the temporal lobes…”

“Let the show begin!” Irma chimed cheerfully.

Payne felt the hum of the machine grow louder as her vision went a snowy white.

“ _We’re almost there. Your memory is loading now._ ” Dr. Amari’s voice sounded tinny and distant, like she was whispering through a metal pipe. “ _We’ll be monitoring you._ ” Payne felt her heart rate jump at the phrase. Why was she doing this to herself? Putting herself in the hands of a _doctor_ , of all people. That didn’t go so great the last time…

“ _Just relax, please. Focus on the memory._ ”

Payne forced herself to calm down, remembering the last truly happy time she had with her family.

 Suddenly she found herself standing on a sidewalk, a bright blue sky above her head. The gentle rays of the kind fall sun warmed her skin. She could not suppress a wide, genuine smile. In front of her stood the perfect salmon-pink house of her childhood, complete with her mother’s concrete birdbath front and center in their yard. She could detect the delicate sweet smell of her mother’s baking wafting through the air. The house was decorated for Halloween, with black bats hung from the eaves and grinning carved pumpkins on the front porch. She was home!

Payne felt as if her heart stopped. Looking through the living room’s giant plate-glass window, two familiar silhouettes sat, lit only by the movie playing on the television set. She noticed it was her mother’s favorite horror flick, _Dementia_. And there they sat, her mother and brother, sharing popcorn as they watch their family’s annual horror movie marathon on her birthday. She froze, terrified that if she dared to move, the whole fragile world could disintegrate before her. Tears welled in her eyes seeing the two talking and laughing jovially together. Silently, the shadow of her brother got up and moved out of the room. Finally, Payne broke out of her trepidation and raced up the walk.

As she reached for the door, a single gunshot shattered the bucolic peace of the pristine pre-war neighborhood. Time dilated and stretched. Payne could hear her mother’s blood-freezing scream behind the door. Looking down, bright red blood seeped under the front door, oozing past the toes of her shoes.

“MOM! ADEN!” she screamed, pounding on the door that would not budge no matter how much she pushed. Somewhere close, a deafening claxon began blaring. _This wasn’t right, this wasn’t how this happened_ … and yet it was happening… _everything_ , all at once. In the sky, missiles streaked across a darkening horizon, choked with strange glowing green clouds.

“ _What the hell?_ ” cried the tinny voice, far away from the horror unfolding around Payne. “ _Get her out. NOW!_ ”

Ignoring the voice, Payne renewed her assault on her front door, cursing in frustration. She had to get to her family, needed to protect them from the horrors only she knew were coming. Her heart pounded in her chest, dread making bile rise in her throat.

Suddenly, Payne felt hands wrap around her arms and begin to pull her away and down the sidewalk. Skeletal figures wearing soiled and tattered nursing uniforms dragged her, their long needle-like fingers digging into the flesh of her arms, dripping glowing green ooze. She kicked and shoved, trying to twist from their ironclad grip. The bombs exploded in the sky. Payne screamed as the whole world went white.

“ _Just calm down, sweetie._ ”

She could still feel hands holding her down. In full panic, not knowing where she was, Payne threw off her attackers with a violent shove. Then, she did what she always did. She ran.

__

Kent arrived at the second-floor landing of the Old State House, huffing and panting. The closest guard on ran to his side.

“Hancock…” He puffed. “Payne…”

The noisy commotion brought Hancock out, followed closely by Fahrenheit. “Kent? What’s going on?” he asked.

Still winded, Kent took a deep breath. “Payne went to the Memory Den.” Hancock’s eyes went wide. “I don’t know what happened, but she freaked out…”

Before Kent could finish his sentence, Hancock rushed out the door and into the street. It didn’t take him long to find where Payne had run to. A crowd of drifters and Neighborhood Watch had gathered a cautious distance around a small metal shack at the end of the barricaded street past the hotel.

He stopped next to a watchman. Without having to ask, the man issued a report.

“From what I hear, Payne ran out of the Memory Den like a bat outta hell. Never saw anyone move that fast… but she’s holed up in Randy’s shack there. Blocked up the door and screams if anyone gets close. Thank God Randy wasn’t in there when she busted in… They says Irma’s pretty banged up. Amari’s helping her out right now. We’re not really sure what to do next.”

Hancock clapped him on the back, a wordless thanks. “Wish me luck.”

“What? Boss… you can’t go in there!”

“Don’t worry about your old Mayor. Did you forget I have a silver tongue?” He popped a Mentat in his mouth. “A little extra boost couldn’t hurt, either.”

Hancock strode through the crowd. He stopped to ask an onlooker to borrow a sack hood hanging from their waistband before walking up to the small shack. He peered through the spaces between the table and bed that had been hastily thrown into the doorway. He could see Payne pressed between the wall and a tall dresser. She rocked as she rubbed her arms, her head down and eyes pressed closed.

Quietly, he asked, “Payne?”

“GO AWAY!” she roared in response, not even looking his direction.

“Come on, Payne. It’s me...” Something glass shattered as it hit the upturned table, so close to his face he had to brush a few shards off it. He thought for a moment.

“Dahlia?” he offered, almost whispering. Payne stopped rocking. “Dahl, listen to me. It’s Hancock. All I want to do is talk.” She slowly turned her head and finally looked at him, her eyes squinting as if she was trying to focus on something far in the distance. Her face was red and angry, burned by her run into the daylight. He carefully moved some of the furniture aside, mindful to reduce any noises that might startle her. Walking into the one-room shack, he stopped as Payne tensed up.

“Alright, I’ll just sit right here until you feel like saying something.” Hancock sat cross-legged on the dirty floor and watched her, a calm and patient expression on his face.  This wasn’t the first time he had talked someone down, though normally it was from some drug-induced haze. He studied her as she anxiously watched him. He wasn’t sure if she was actually seeing him at first. Her eyes darted all around the room, following unseen phantoms. Eventually she squirmed so that she faced him, still wedged partially in her protective corner.

Finally she asked timidly, “Hancock? Is that you?” She scrutinized his face. “Are you really here?”

“It’s me, sunshine. Looks like you’re in a bit of a bad way.” He didn’t move as she tentatively stretched out her hand to gingerly touch his knee. She found it solid and unwavering, firm in its existence in time and space. Some of the tension released from her shoulders.

“Where am I?” She put her hands to her temples, the specter of a claxon reeling in her ears. “ _When_ am I?”

“You’re in Goodneighbor. It’s 2287. The bombs fell over 200 years ago. Specifically, you are squatting in Randy’s place… well, what’s left of it. He might not be too fond of your redecorating the place.”

Payne looked around the disheveled room, frowning as if seeing it for the first time. She hung her head between her curled up knees. “I fucked up pretty bad, didn’t I?”

Hancock scooted closer, resting his back on the wall next to her. “Nothing an apology or two won’t amend.” Hancock remembered the one time he had run afoul of Amari, spilling a full bottle of vodka on one of her machines. “Maybe caps, too. That helps.”

An uneasy silence settled between them.

“What happened in there?” he cautiously ventured. “I didn’t really peg you as a Memory Den kinda gal.”

“I…” Payne choked on her words. She had no idea how to formulate what had happened into a coherent thought. Nothing made any sense to her. She started again. “At first everything was fine… I was in front of my mother’s house, but then…” Her mind stumbled. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. “It was like the most horrific nightmare you can imagine, tailor-made for me. Everything happened at once… my brother shooting himself… the bombs falling… the nurses pushing poison into me.” She folded in on herself again, hugging her body desperately.

“I’m sorry. I messed up,” she whimpered. Hancock could see tears well in her eyes. “I just… I just wanted to see them again. My mother. My brother. I wanted my last memory to be a happy one… not…” The words caught in her throat.

Payne found Hancock’s hand unexpectedly on top of her own. Instinctively, she curled her fingers around his, clinging to his steady presence.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffed.

“Nothing to be sorry about. Even dream girls have nightmares sometimes.” He smiled weakly, and to his surprise, Payne returned the gesture.

“I suppose so,” she said. “At least the air raid sirens have stopped.”

Hancock gave her hand a gentle squeeze. To him, she seemed over the worst of it. “I think you might want to see how Irma’s doing. I heard you roughed her up a bit right before your impromptu ‘hide-and-seek’ session.”

“Oh shit,” Payne spat and stood up. She was a bit shaky, but moved towards the door.

“Hold on. You’ll need this.” Hancock tossed her the sackcloth mask. She nodded in thanks before slipping it over her head. They carefully put as much of Randy’s possessions back where she had found them.

“Time to go mend some fences.” Payne stepped out into the daylight with Hancock.

The crowd murmured. A sallow-looking man trudged out of the throng.

“Nothing better be broken in there!” Randy huffed.

Hancock pressed a few caps into his palm. “Get yourself something nice, okay?” Payne raised a hand in protest. He waved it away. “You’ve got bigger fish to fry. Let me handle this one.”

Back inside the Memory Den, Payne removed her mask gingerly. Kent rushed up to Payne’s side as soon as the duo entered.

“Oh my god… Are you okay, Payne?” he asked, worry tight across he sinewy features. “You gave us all quite a fright.”

“Kent, I…” Payne started, but as she looked up, the sight of Irma reclining on her chaise lounge with her arm wrapped in bandages and suspended with a crude sling arrested her thoughts.

“Irma!?” she started to rush to her friend’s side. Dr. Amari, kneeling next to the memory lounger Payne had been using, glared at her. Payne slowed her steps as she drew close. “What… did I do?”

“You damn near ripped Irma’s arm off!” Dr. Amari exploded, pointing an accusatory finger her way.

“Now, Amari, stop being so dramatic. I’ll be fine… unless you think your bandaging isn’t up to snuff.” Amari huffed. Irma turned back to Payne, wincing with the effort. “You pack quite a punch, gal. When you threw me off and ran, I landed badly. Amari says I broke my collarbone and pulled some ligaments.” A pained look passed over Payne’s already downtrodden features. “Hey now, I knew it was risky grabbing you while you were in there… in the state you were in.”

“I’m sorry, Irma. I’ll make it up to you, somehow.”

“Don’t worry about me, dear.” Irma cooed.

“Irma might let you off easy, but I certainly am not. Look at what your little ‘brainstorming’ session did to the lounger!” Amari still knelt beside the machine.

“I’m sorry. I will find some way to fix this. I’ll get the caps…”

Dr. Amari was keenly examining the egg-like glass dome of the pod. Large spidery cracks radiated out from a single point of impact. “How the _hell_ did you manage to crack nano-carbon infused industrial safety glass? It’s not like I can just put in an order to get a replacement shipped here!”

Payne just stood looking at the floor. She had nothing she could say or do, so she did nothing at all.

Finally standing, Dr. Amari turned to face her. But Amari’s anger seemed to cool slightly upon seeing the silent pain written in Payne’s down-turned eyes and ridged frame. “But we’ll figure out something.” Amari’s analytical eyes scrutinized Payne’s rosy complexion. “What happened out there? You’re as red as a boiled mirelurk!”

“I’ll be fine.” Payne mumbled.

“No. You need a thorough post-procedure examination. From what I saw on the monitors, your hippocampal and amygdalar synapses lit up like a Christmas tree. Cross firing and mistiming like that could cause extreme neural fatigue! I need to make sure you aren’t suffering from a stroke or some other kind of brain injury. Just give me a moment and I’ll perform the tests.”

Payne stood stone-still. Dr. Amari waited for some kind of answer or response. None was forthcoming.

Hancock cleared this throat and put a hand on her shoulder.“Payne?” he cautiously ventured.

“No.” She didn’t even move her head. Amari looked confused, unsure how to proceed.

“Oh, come on, honey. Amari will use her best bedside manner.” Irma tried coaxing her.

Payne seemed rooted to the spot.

“Right…” Hancock remembered. “No doctors.” Amari’s nose wrinkled, offense blooming on her cheeks. Hancock put a hand out, waving Amari to give him a moment. “Payne?” Her eyes shifted to him. “Would it be okay if stay with you? I’ll make sure nothing goes south, watch her the whole time. You won’t be alone.”

Amari gave him a sideways look and almost dismissed him, given there were already several people in the room, but Payne’s posture began to relax.

Payne thought. After a few seconds, she nodded. She quickly added “No needles.”

“What?” Amari balked.

Hancock shot her a quick irritated glare, screaming ‘get on board, sister!’ with wide black eyes.

“Gah, fine. No needles.” Amari motioned to a lounger. The muscles in Payne’s jaw tightened. “Of course… no chairs too?” frustration saturated her words.

Hancock pulled over a disused folding chair. “What about this?”

“How do you expect me to diagnose anything if I can’t even check for proper brain function? I can’t wave my hand over her head and see an fMRI!”

“No needles and no loungers. Take it or leave it.” It was clear Payne was not going to budge.

Dr. Amari threw her hands up in. “What a waste of my time. If you drop dead of a hemorrhagic stroke, don’t blame me!”

Hancock unfolded the chair. Payne gingerly sat, her palms balled in her lap. A grumbling Amari pulled out a battered doctor’s bag, pulling equipment out on a nearby computer bank. She wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Payne’s upper arm. Hancock watched as Payne looked away, her eyes wide, darting around the room as she fought to stay in the chair. Her hands clenched, kneading her thighs.

“Sit still, please,” ordered Amari.

Hancock leaned against the boxy metal mainframe. “Hey!” Payne looked up into his mischievously sparkling eyes. “What did the necrophiliac say to his girlfriend?”

Payne scrunched up her face. “What?”

“What did the necrophiliac say to his girlfriend?” he said again.

“How the fuck should I know?” Annoyed, Payne blinked as Amari took a light and looked in darting eyes.

“ _I really dig ya!_ ” Hancock snickered.

It took a moment, but a weak smile broke Payne’s frigid features. A few scrawny laughs broke through her fear-heightened panic. “That’s a horrible joke.”

“Yeah? How about this one?” Amari brought out a small hammer, tapping Payne’s knees and elbows. “A ghoul walks into a bar. The bartender tells him ‘We don’t serve ghouls here!’ The ghoul says to him ‘That’s fine. Is the human fresh?’”

“Jeezzzus!” Payne shook her head. “Don’t quit your day job. Stand-up doesn’t suit you. At least not with those dad jokes.”

Amari stood up and addressed them. “From the little I can tell, you are okay neurologically… but your blood pressure is sky high.” She looked to turn away, but returned to face Payne, her severe eyes a bit softer than before. “If you ever feel like you might be able to stomach a proper examination, come back.”

She paused again.

“You know, everything experienced in the Memory Den is kept strictly confidential.” She finished cleaning up her tools.

Payne mulled over the exact import of her words. How much did she actually see in those monitors?

“You should go get some rest, and that is my professional opinion. Whatever happened to you in the lounger, it put you through the wringer.”


	29. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Payne comes to terms with her past while connecting with her future.

Payne was unsure she wanted Hancock to walk her to her room, but she found herself grateful for his presence as she crossed the threshold into the lobby of the hotel. Every head turned to watch her, conversations stopping mid-sentence. Her embarrassment turned into anger as they passed through the silent room.

She jumped up on a coffee table. “It’s been a while since I held an audience like this. I take requests.” Her words were drenched with sarcasm.

Reddened faces turned quickly turned away, returning to their previous discussions. Train wrecks, it seemed, were only fun to watch if the subject of the destruction isn’t inviting disaster. Satisfied, Payne jumped back down.

“Well, that is certainly _one_ way to handle that,” quipped Hancock, shrugging.

 “Hey,” Clair barked in her gravelly voice as they reached the front desk. She dryly eyed both of them as Payne leaned against the front desk. “The boss thinks we need to _update_ your rental agreement if you want to continue to stay at the Rexford.”

Payne arched an eyebrow. “And what does Marowski want now?”

Hancock scowled a bit, even with his Mentat buzz winding down; he could easily figure this out. “Let me guess. A damage deposit?”

Clair nodded. “Bingo.”

Payne huffed. “Fine. How much?”

“10 caps...”

Payne reached for her money.

Clair wasn’t done. “A night. On top of the normal rate.”

“WHAT?” Payne retorted. “He wants me to pay _double_ what anyone else would pay per night?!”

Clair shrugged nonchalantly.

“That ain’t right, Clair,” Hancock added.

“Not my call, Mayor. And it isn’t yours either.”

Payne put the remainder of the money she had on her up on the counter. It would get her a few more nights, but with everything she owed Amari now, her brain was scrambling and calculating.

“Enjoy your stay,” Clair said sarcastically.

Taking her cue, Payne turned to head upstairs. She was surprised to see Hancock continue to follow her. Marowski eyed them from his backroom office as they passed.

“I think I can find my way from here. You don’t need to chaperone for me.”

“I know.” They reached her door and stopped. “I wanted to make sure to give this back to you, and I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t like a crowd watching.” Hancock pulled something from an inner pocket of his coat and handed it to Payne.

Payne turned it over in her hands. At first, she was confused what she was looking at. It was a strap of rich black leather, clearly a thick bracelet. Unrolling it, her heart stopped. A flattened Sunset Sarsaparilla star bottle cap glowed dimly surrounded by some decorative chain; everything securely stitched in place.

Payne looked up bewildered. She thought she had lost her brother’s lucky bottle cap when they had been attacked by the deathclaw months ago. Her mouth fell open, but no words came.

“Uh… I felt kinda bad for what happened to your necklace, it being crushed and all. So… I sent it out to this guy I used to know in Diamond City to see if he could do anything with it. All I really told him was you seemed to like the color black.” Hancock rubbed his palms together nervously. “Daisy told me it came in just a couple of days ago. I hope you don’t mind.”

Payne’s mind raced. “You…?” she faltered, thinking back to the day she had thought she lost her last connection with her family, before looking up in bemusement. “You pickpocketed me?”

Hancock’s lips curled into a smile. He fanned the fingers of his right hand. “You’d be surprised what these fingers can do…”

“Gah!” Payne gave his shoulder a playful shove. She thoughtfully looked over the bracelet, her fingers gliding over the supple leather. “Thank you. I really appreciate having this back. It means a lot.” As she strapped it to her wrist, Payne couldn’t contain a wry smile. “Though that last comment of yours is going to make my next question a bit awkward.”

Hancock nonexistent eyebrows hitched up. “Oh?”

Payne released a small exasperated sigh. “Could you come in and just…” She flexed her fingers nervously. “I want to make sure I don’t wig out.” She realized she was avoiding his eyes. “You don’t have to stay long. Just until I am asleep.”

“Oh, I think I can manage that.” He placed his palm lightly on his chest. “But what will the neighbors think?”

Payne rolled her eyes. “Just don’t need any more extra surcharges added to my bill because I start sleepwalking or something.” As she opened the door, Hancock started in. He quickly found his path blocked by an elbow.

“Hold on. I need to change first. Give me a sec.” Payne quickly changed into what passed for pajamas: an oversized _Guns and Bullets_ T-shirt over threadbare shorts. Swinging the door open, she nodded for Hancock to enter.

“There are some books over on the end table if you get bored. The love seat isn’t too bad, but watch out for the left cushion. The springs are shot on that side.”

“Don’t worry about me. I think I can handle myself.” He patted his coat pocket, the one he normally kept a backup tin of Mentats in.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. You are too damn chatty on Mentats and I’m beat.”

“I’ll be a quiet as the grave.” As he said it, Hancock winced. “Sorry.”

Payne rubbed her forehead as she sat on the sagging bed. “Just…” She gathered the thin sheet around her. “Just make sure I stay in bed.”

“Sweet dreams.”

Within a few minutes, Payne had slipped off to sleep.

___

Payne felt the familiar sensation of sand shift under her feet as she walked. It took a few minutes to pinpoint what made the whole scene so eerily strange. It was the lack of any sound. In the distance, she could make out a building. Though there was barely any structure left, something in her soul knew where she was.

Home.

Or what home looked like the last time she had seen it. Nearly all the pink walls had collapsed, the rooms filling with sand and debris. Her hand brushed against the crumbling birdbath.

Of course, she was here. Where else would she be?

Stepping over the broken lintel of the front door, she turned into the kitchenette. A single metal chair remained upright next to the upturned table. Dusting off the seat, she sat down. This silent ruin held no more horrors for her. She sighed and hung her head, running her fingers through her hair.

She began to look up, but she stopped. On the floor before her a pair of blood covered baby-doll pumps. She knew those shoes.

“What are you doing back here, of all places, Dahl?” She knew that voice. Strong and fiery, but full of love.

“Mom?” The word fell out of her mouth like a dropped stone. Payne‘s head snapped up. There stood her mother, but not the mother of her childhood. Casually standing there was the corpse of her mother, exactly the way she had looked last time Payne had seen her. The day she killed the squatters and buried her. This version of her mother, her limbs and face bloated and blackened with pooled rotting blood, didn’t horrify her like it had that day so long ago.

“I guess I can’t get away.” Payne mused.

“I suppose not.” Her mother sat down on the ground next to her. “Though I can see why you might not find the time to come visit your mother, given you are halfway across the country now… but what excuse did you have for the previous 200 years?”

“Jeeze, Mom! Really? Even in my _dreams_ you badger me!”

They both chuckled.

“And what does that make me? Chopped liver?” a male voice interrupted. Across the cracked tiles stepped Aiden, wearing his fresh-pressed dress uniform. Payne could even see the distortion of the silhouette of the back of his head. They couldn’t afford to have it smoothed over for his visitation, a luxury few could afford with all the war rationing. A rueful smile played across his partially painted lips, the cheap mortuary make-up flaking, revealing the bruised corpse flesh underneath.

Payne rose, grinning from ear to ear as she ran to embrace her brother. Wrapping her arms around his torso, she clung to him.

Finally pulling back, Payne wrinkled her nose. “You smell like old lady perfume and death!”

“Well, a hello to you too, pipsqueak!” They walked back to their mother, Payne returning to her chair and Aiden leaning against the table. “I leave you for two minutes and the whole place goes to hell in a handbasket.”

“You have no idea…” A few tears trailed down Payne’s cheeks. She quickly wiped them off. “God, I’ve missed you two.” Even with them in the state they were, she found their presence comforting. _Maybe_ , she thought, _because that is the last true memory you have of them_.

Suddenly, she felt guilty. Guilty for trying to replace their memories with something saccharine and fake.

“I’m so sorry,” she confessed. “I never should have gone into the memory lounger. I never should have tried to…” As her words faltered, her mother’s hand found hers. She gave me mother’s hand a squeeze before trying again. “I’m sorry for trying to erase you. The real you. I just wanted to see you two again. For us to be together, one last time.” Aiden wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders.

“We know,” He answered. “but that’s not what you need now, is it?”

“What?” Payne puzzled. “What I need now?”

“What are you feeling right now? In the middle of wreckage of your old life, what do you want to say to us?” Her mom’s dead eyes stared directly at her.

Payne shook her head, trying to sort out her thoughts. “That I am sorry.” She grasped at threads of thought. “So sorry.”

“For what?” her mom prompted again.

“For?” Payne was at a loss. She had no idea what her mother was getting at. “I’m not…” but even as she spoke the words, the realization of what they were asking, of what truly had been tormenting the shadows of her mind crystalized.

 _Guilt_. Guilt weighted heavy on her soul. Not that she had let them down in their last moments. Not for what she had become.

Tears streaked down her cheeks. “I don’t want to forget you.”

“Why do you think you would forget us?” Aiden’s apparition asked, his cloudy eyes searching Payne’s face.

“I’m so far away… from where you are.”

“That’s not it.” Her mother patted her leg. “Our bones have long since turned to dust.” Payne knew she was right.

“But if I were home…” Payne gasped. _Home_. There was the crux of the it, wasn’t it? Someplace new was becoming home.

She looked to see her mother smiling at her, a kind and knowing smile. One that every child knows, though most aren’t coming from a corpse.

“You aren’t going to forget us,” said her mother. “No one could take your past from you… so stop being afraid of living your own future. A future you live for yourself.”

As Payne embraced the ghosts of her family, the silent Nevada desert faded away.

___

Hours later, Payne woke. Sitting on the side of the bed, she realized how clear her head felt. Even her body felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted. Stretching, she heard the springs of the sofa groan. Payne scoffed as she shook her head. It was Hancock sprawled in the love seat, his arms and legs dangling over the edges.

Quietly, Payne gathered up her sheet and covered him up, picking up the crumpled copy of _Peter Pan_ and placing it back on the stack of books on the end table.


	30. Family Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Payne gets to have a bit of a breather and let her hair down after a nice little heart to heart with Hancock.

It took a few days, but people stopped giving her sideways glances. Payne quickly fell back into a steady routine of working followed by unwinding at The Third Rail while listening to Magnolia sing. It felt more comfortable than it had before; easy, even.

One late afternoon, she entered the Old State House and found Fahrenheit sitting in a chair cleaning her gun.

“Roof.” It was more of a grunt than a word.

Payne nodded and headed up. Fahr had barely spoken to her since her freak-out. She made a mental note to try to smooth things out with Fahr when she could find the time. Having a reputation could be useful, but she had to work together with Fahrenheit to keep Hancock out of trouble. If communication broke down between the two of them, it could be dangerous.

Sure enough, Payne found Hancock on top of the roof reclining against the wall of the stately cupola, watching the sky.

“This a private party?” she asked. She tapped the bottle of Day Tripper on the railing. “I see you’re swinging for the fences today.”

“Mmmm…” Hancock slowly turned to her, lost in a drug-induced cloud. “Now I know I must be dreaming…”

Payne paused. “Your normal Jet and Mentats cocktail not enough?”

“The latest shipment of Jet was weak as fuck.” He rubbed his temples. “It’s gone off… or something. It’s a rough and dirty ride.”

Payne nodded. The more powerful narcotic was to smooth out the rough bumps of a bad trip. “You haven’t given any of that bad Jet out, have you?” She knew his habit of sampling new shipments before distribution around Goodneighbor.

“Don’t worry, Fehr’s already rejected ’em. Threw the trader out on his ass for good measure, too.” He slowly raised himself to a sitting position, reaching up to the bottle. Payne moved it out of his grasp. Hancock scowled. “What gives? I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not carrying your skinny passed out ass down all those stairs.” She slipped the bottle into a pocket. “Wait a little while, until you’re back inside at least.”

Hancock threw his arms up in defeat. “Bah!” Propping himself back up on the wall, he looked out at the sky.

“Is Fred going to be able to keep up until you find someone else to supply the masses?”

“Maybe for a little while, but that would require him to focus and not take half the chems himself once he’s finished cookin’ em.”

Payne snorted. That was true enough.

“I’ll just have to share some of my personal stock until something comes through.” Hancock patted the spot next to him.

Payne sat down. A comfortable silence settled between them as they watched the sun near the horizon.

Eventually, Hancock let out a sigh. “I gotta tell ya, I’ve been thinking a bit about you.” Payne craned her head slightly. “Well, more about your family situation.”

Payne cocked an eyebrow. Payne wasn’t quite sure what he was getting at.

“Uhhh, it’s just that… even after everything you’ve been through, given the chance, you wanted to see them again. You miss them.” His head bent down as he now looked absently at his boots. “I really can’t say the same.”

Payne should have expected something like this. The last time Hancock decided to dip into his Day Tripper stash, he got pretty philosophical. She made herself comfortable. At least once the sun set, she would be able to take her helmet off.

Hancock grimaced. “If I had that tight-ass brother of mine in front of me right now, I would probably just sock him right in his smug face.”

“Jeez, don’t hold back,” Payne teased. The disdain Hancock had for his sibling was palpable.

“He wasn’t always such a prick. We grew up in a shack down by the waterfront with just our mom. Dad ran off when we were still little. Mom did her best with the two of us, pretty normal shit, ya know? He’d do regular big brother stuff, we’d rough each other up, play pranks. Crap like that. Once mom kicked it, we took what we could and moved to Diamond City.” Hancock pulled a cigarette out from a pocket and lit it, taking a long drag. As he talked, tendrils of smoke drifted from his open sinuses. “Somehow, slowly, he changed. Changed from a jerk of a big brother to something completely unrecognizable. Someone who would do anything to gain power over people. Even stoking hate and paranoia just to gain votes to win an election.”

“Wait a minute…” Payne stopped him. _Votes?_ “Your brother is Mayor McDonough?” Hancock nodded as she digested the new information. “Guess politics runs in the family.”

“We are nothing alike. Don’t lump me together with that pile of brahmin shit. That guy doesn’t deserve the title of Mayor.” Hancock spat sourly. The reddish light from the setting sun made him look severe, deepening the shadows of his uneven skin. “All he does is serve himself, not the people.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” spat back Payne.

Hancock released a sigh. “I know. The guy just gets under my skin. I didn’t become mayor for some kind of personal power trip. By the people, for the people. Those aren’t just words to me, ya feel me?” Payne nodded. She knew he lived those words; she had seen it herself. “And to think that guy is my brother… family and blood…”

Payne really wished she could take off her helmet as she spoke up. “No one is ever going to think you are anything like your brother, trust me on that one… but listen to me. Family isn’t just about blood. Yeah, my family was pretty good, give or take a few details. But I grew up knowing how little that connection meant to some people…”

She took a quick moment to organize her thoughts. Hancock turned to listen.

“Before the war… well, things were different. People were expected to act, dress, behave a certain way… and only that way. Everyone was taught that you grow up, serve in the military, hate commies, get married and pop out a couple of kids. If you were different… if you loved the wrong person, if you looked different, wanted different things out of life… people would turn on you. Viciously sometimes. You’d lose friends, your job. People could end up dead over it. A lot of folks hid their true selves just to survive. My mom’s ranch was full of people who had been kicked out of their homes and had no contact with their families. They were deemed untouchable. But at the ranch, they formed new families. Stronger families, with deeper connections than they had ever had with someone they shared blood with.” She put a hand on his arm and gave a gentle squeeze. “Blood isn’t everything. Sometimes found families are better.”

Payne could see Hancock mulling over her words.

“No wonder you like it in Goodneighbor so much,” he finally said, the last ruddy beams of the dying sunset leaving his face.

Payne chuckled to herself. “I guess so.”

After a few moments, Hancock rose to his feet. “I feel like a walk. Mixing it up with my constituents, as it were.”

Payne knew what that meant… getting plastered at the bar. “Sure thing, boss.” At least it would be easier to distract him from taking more Day Tripper.

As they headed through the Old State House on their way to the Third Rail, Hancock filled his pockets with more chems. He was a veritable pill-popping Santa Claus to the citizens of the town, and he seemed ready to ensure he was propagating that sentiment tonight.

Hancock greeted the bouncer at the top of the stairs with a toothy grin. “Ham, my man! How’s it hanging?!”

A curt _Sir_ was all the regard he gave the Mayor. Payne shared a slight head nod with Ham as she passed.

Down in the old subway station, Hancock fluttered around to packed tables and couches while handing out his addictive gifts to grateful patrons. Eventually he made his way to the bar, Payne trailing behind him.

Whitechapel Charlie whizzed to greet his employer. “Evening, Mayor. What’s your poison tonight?”

“I’m in a generous mood, Chuck.” He pounded on the bar for emphasis. “Next round for everyone is on me!”

A congenial cheer erupted from the evening’s crowd.

Hancock pointed to the wet bar. “A Gwinnett Stout for me.”

“Anything for you?” Charlies metallic orbs settled on Payne.

She shook her head. “I’m on the clock.”

That got her a jab in the ribs. “Live a little!” Hancock chided, his black dilated eyes dancing. His Cheshire grin and easy demeanor was contagious.

Rolling her eyes, Payne ordered a shot of whiskey to sip. Hancock was soon drawn away by a steady flow of acquaintances and drifters wanting to bend the ear of the charismatic mayor.

Payne relaxed a little, enjoying the radio while watching the crowd. A news report came on, commenting on new sightings of the Silver Shroud and his exploits squashing some band of raiders or something. It sounded like Nate was back from the Glowing Sea and up to some good deeds. Good for him. Kent would love that.

Payne noticed Magnolia at the end of the bar rummaging through a box. Curious, Payne took up a seat next to her.

“Whatcha got there?” she asked. Peering inside, Payne could start to see a small collection of records and holotapes.

“Daisy apparently found these in an old locked trunk that she bought off a trader. She had no idea what was inside. Once she popped the lock, she realized she had nothing to play them on.”

Payne smiled. “And that’s where you come in, right?”

“Something like that,” mused Magnolia, moving a stray lock of hair back in place.

Payne saw the flash of a peeling green label on a dusty record. Reaching in, she carefully extracted it, catching the crumbling paper as it sloughed off in her hands. Her breath caught in her throat as she read the faded white words under the bold script:

 _Capitol_.

_THE WILDEST – LOUIS PRIMA_

Magnolia looked over and saw Payne’s bewildered expression. “You recognize something, hun?”

Payne couldn’t contain a small smile. “Oh yeah… you got a record player around?”

“Of course!” She fished around behind the bar before placing a ramshackle turntable in front of Payne.

“If I remember right, it’s the first track… cross your fingers…” Payne mumbled to herself. She tentatively placed the needle down on the spinning record a few times before catching the right groove. Payne missed Magnolia turning the radio off as her complete attention drew to the recording, listening for the first bars of the piano. Many of the bar patrons stopped their conversations, craning their ears closer to get a listen. The chance to hear ‘new’ music was a rare treat.

The piano joyfully sprang into existence. Payne’s shoulders took tiny bounces along with the jaunty rhythm involuntarily, her eyes closed. Happy memories flooded back in those familiar bars. As the lyrics started, Payne couldn’t help but sing along.

_I'm just a gigolo and everywhere I go_

_People know the part I'm playing_

There was no stopping it now. The infectious song ate away at Payne inhibitions. Too many times has she belted this song out in the green room back at her mother’s ranch, hamming it up with friends and family before and after rehearsals. This was their song!

Her eyes popped open, a smile stretched across her face from ear to ear. She stole a knowing glance at her fellow performer… a look that screamed, “Let the show begin!”

_Paid for every dance, selling each romance_

Payne palled up next to Magnolia, who started to snicker.

_Ooh, and they're sayin'_

Payne’s arms shot out to her sides. She held her fingers wide, pumping her shoulders while she shook her hands. She looked like some old vaudeville entertainer, drawing the audience in. The steps to the old dance took over, as if the last time she danced them was yesterday and not centuries ago.

_There will come a day when youth will pass away_

_What will they say about me?_

_When the end comes, I know_

_They was just the gigolos_

_Life goes on without me_

The words and steps were simple and repetitive. Quickly, she found with some gentle prodding she could get Magnolia to join her. The circle watching the impromptu performance grew. Many tapped along, laughing as Magnolia tripped over a few stanzas.

_I ain't got nobody_

_Nobody cares for me_

_Nobody cares for me_

_I'm so sad and lonely_

_Sad and lonely, sad and lonely_

_Won't some sweet mama come and take a chance with me?_

_'Cause I ain't so bad_

As she looked up, Payne could see Hancock watching in the crowd. With his one arm wrapped around the waist of a woman in a ratty dress and the other around the shoulders of a stringy-looking drifter, he lifted one hand in salute. Payne winked back. Turning back to Magnolia, she managed to get the half-drunk patrons to stumble along with a call and response, most whooping with lighthearted laughter by the end.

Payne was huffing by the time she took her sloppy bow with Mag. They were walking back to their seats when Hancock slid up to the bar next to them.

“I leave you alone for 10 minutes and you bring the place down!”

“Sorry to steal your limelight, boss,” Payne was still smiling from ear to ear. “I’ll blame it on the whisky if you like.”

“I know you better than that. You love the spotlight.” Hancock smiled back. “You were really grooving to that. Why don’t you keep it?”

Payne took the record off the player and put it back in the box. “Nah, I’m tight on caps remember?” She tapped her temple. “But, if you want to do something for me… have Daisy send it to that DJ in Diamond City.”

“Letting everyone in the Commonwealth enjoy it too? How can I say no to that, sister?” A roguish smirk stretched across his face. “How about you do a little something for me first?”

“Let me guess… you’ve double-booked a tour tonight?” Payne couldn’t help but roll her eyes a bit.

“You’re a mind reader! Clear out the VIP lounge for a private party, would ya?”

Payne got up, mocking indignation and put a playful finger on his chest. “Make sure that record makes it to Diamond City.”

“Scout’s honor.” His grin was growing. Payne knew he would do as she asked.

“You don’t even know what that means…” Payne headed off to the corner of the club. It took few minutes to clear everyone out. MacCready grumbled the most. He only moved after she mentioned the only way he was staying in the lounge was if he didn’t mind watching the festivities. After the area was vacated, she drew the threadbare curtain and pulled the improvised rope across the entrance.

It took her a second to get Hancock’s attention from across the room, his head buried in the neck of the waif of a woman. The trio ambled up slowly, the chems and drink slowing their progress.

“Weapons.” Payne commanded as they approached the lounge. Both of the wanderers looked confused.

“Really?” Hancock cocked his head.

“I’m your bodyguard before I’m your wingman. You know the deal.” She held out her hands. “Hand’ em over.” Reluctantly a few knifes and a six-shooter found their way into her possession.

“Enjoy your flight.” Payne teased as she lowered the rope for them to pass, though few would have gotten the reference. The rest of the night was easy. She nursed another whiskey and listening to Magnolia most of the night. Both were pleasant distractions as she stood guard until Hancock stumbled home early the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Louis Prima - I'm Just a Gigalo/I Ain't Got Nobody ](https://youtu.be/Kkrb4h4weW4)  
>  I can't help it... I just love this song. I had to include it somewhere... somehow. And it just seems like something a bunch of sex workers would have a lot of fun connecting with for warm ups etc (I have my own version of this song from my high school theater days)


	31. The Notebook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A drifter goes off the deep end, Payne tries something unorthodox to bring them back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are three songs referenced in this chapter:  
> [Baby Shark](https://youtu.be/XqZsoesa55w)  
> [Mr. Rodgers Neighborhood Theme Song](https://youtu.be/eInUUfyqa5o)  
> [Moon River](https://youtu.be/vJgGs9WpGt0)

It was a few days before Payne was able to catch Fahrenheit alone. She sat at Hancock’s desk while the mayor took a nap safely in his room.

“Fahr.” Payne saw Fahr’s scowling grey eyes look up from the paper on the desk. That was all the acknowledgement Payne received. “We need to talk,” she continued.

“We do.”

Payne wasn’t quite sure if the response was a statement or a question. Her mind quickly calculated the best way to approach Fahr and landed on the only logical conclusion. She just directly asked her.

“Exactly what’s your sudden problem with me?”

The edges of Fahr’s lips curled into a tiny wicked smile. Seemed like she had been waiting for this… but she still sat motionless. The silence drug on, rankling under Payne’s skin.

“Problem?” Fahr finally spoke. “What problem?”

Payne had had enough. She took a quick step forward, right to edge of the desk. “You know exactly what I am talking about! You barely talk to me anymore! This shit has to stop! We need to communicate if we are going to keep Hancock safe!” Her fist hit the top of the desk in frustration.

“Keep Hancock safe?!” At that, Fahrenheit stood up, leaning forward into Payne’s personal space. Involuntarily, Payne backed up a step. “What the fuck do you know about that?”

That threw Payne. All she could manage for a response was a “What?”

“Your little memory tirade didn’t exactly cement you as the most stable employee to be watching Hancock’s back. Along with your… particular proclivities, it makes you too much of a loose cannon for my tastes.” Payne narrowed her eye as her anger rose. “I don’t appreciate having to keep tabs on the _both_ of you.”

Before Payne could react, an out-of-breath Neighborhood Watchman burst loudly through the office. “Where’s Mayor Hancock?” the Watchman asked between heavy breaths.

\---

Hancock drowsily made his way to the office as he stretched his arms languorously above his head, his shoulder popping loudly. The noise of heavy boots in the hall had woke him from his doze.

“What’s going on?” He found a small crowd in his office. Scooping up his hat from its resting spot on the coffee table, every eye was on him.

“Spill it, man!” Hancock said, craning his neck, popping another joint.

“A drifter’s gone feral, sir.”

The mayor frowned. “So put him outta his misery. You guys know what to do.” As distasteful as this rare situation was, this was the standard procedure.

“It’s… not that easy, Mayor. There’s kinda a situation… with kids.”

Without another word, the three of them followed the guard to a cordoned-off back alley. Making their way past the impromptu barricades, several guards were placating a loudly irate woman with a sheepish teenage boy sitting on a old crate behind her. Beyond them, near the dead end of the alley, paced a hunched figure with skin covered in scars—the feral ghoul.

Hancock turned to the woman. “Hey, sister. I need you to chill. Freaking out isn’t helping the situation right now.”

“Well, what the fuck are you going to do about it, _Mayor_? That thing is going to eat my daughter!” The woman was incensed.

Peering down the alley, it took a moment, but tucked in between the brick wall and the massive metal dumpster huddled the silhouette of a small child. There was the reason the guards were hesitant to shoot the feral. They ran the risk of a stray bullet hitting the kid. Tommy guns weren’t really known for the accuracy.

Hancock did his best to calm the woman as he tried to think of strategy to get the kid out of harm's way, but something seemed off. Not only was the feral not attacking the kid who was just feet away from him, the mother was more angry than worried.

Hancock watched Payne out of the corner of his eye as she studied the scene. She turned to the woman. It took Payne a few tries to get her attention away from the mayor.

“Hey!” Payne finally had to put her hand on the woman’s shoulder. “What was going on before he turned feral?”

“What?” She wrinkled her nose. “Why the fuck would that matter?”

“Answer the question,” Payne demanded. The woman was taken aback, but answered.

“I was back here teaching these little shits a lesson about stealing from their mother." She glared at the boy behind her. "Then up walks this ghoul, getting up in my face before he goes all…” She curled her fingers and growled like a sick caricature of a zombie. “Scared the shit out of me, so I ran to get the Watch. Lotta good that did me!”

The boy, who had been staring quietly at the ground, suddenly spoke up. "DJ wouldn't have taken your stupid smokes if we didn't need' em to trade for some food!"

"Shut up!" his mother spat, raising her hand. The boy flinched.

"That's enough of that," Hancock warned.

Hancock continued to try to smooth things over with the mother as Payne went back to sluthing. Her outburst wasn't helping the situation and it was grating on her nerves.

"Whatcha got there?" Hancock asked as Payne picked up a notebook from the pavement, examining it.

"I have an idea." She started to slowly inch her way towards the feral. “Keep everyone back.”

This time it was Fahr raising her voice. "What exactly do you think you're doing? Trying to get that kid killed?!"

Hancock shared some of her trepidation. The situation was certainly volatile. Whatever was keeping the feral from attacking might disappear at any moment.

"Trust me..." Payne held Fahr's gaze before turning to Hancock. "If anything goes south, I will make sure the kid is okay. You got my word on that."

Hancock knew it was a calculated risk. Ferals could be extremely fast when agitated, nothing like the slow plodding zombies he's seen depicted in the old-world comics.

He nodded to Payne to proceed, getting a hiss of frustration from Fahrenheit.

Hancock watched nervously as Payne gradually progressed to within a yard or so of the deranged ghoul before he started to snarl. She stopped and watched him. Most ferals were extremely territorial, attacking anything in their immediate vicinity on instinct. This one paced aggressively, looking like at any moment he would rush forward, but instead seemed to be positioning himself between Payne and the child.

"Okay," Payne cooed softly. "I'm not coming any closer." The ghoul hissed but seemed to settle a bit when she backed off a step. The girl made eye contact with Payne, tears streaking down her terrified face. She seemed ready to bolt from her hiding space, but Payne told her not to move with a slight nod. All this anticipation was making Hancock's skin crawl.

"This isn't my specialty, but..." Payne took a deep breath. "Baby Shark doo doo doo-"

The feral growled, spitting and snarling, waving its hand wildly. In the commotion, the girl let out a yip before clamping her hands protectively over her mouth.

Payne retreated another step, her hand out before her, trying to calm the feral's outburst and keep his attention on her. "Yeah, I'm not a fan of that one either."

Timidly, Payne tried another song. Hancock found it hard to make out the words at first.

_It's a beautiful day in this neighborhood,_

The feral pacing slowed as he cocked his head to the side as he listened, transfixed. Payne moved a step to the left, and the ghoul followed suit.

_A beautiful day for a neighbor,_

_Would you be mine? Could you be mine?_

She moved a few more feet, drawing the ghoul away from the dumpster. When she had moved as far as she could in the confined space, she quickly motioned for the girl to make a break for it.

_It's a neighborly day in this beauty wood_

_A neighborly day for a beauty_

The girl sprinted to safety behind the row of Watchmen, burying her head in her brother’s side, sobbing. The feral’s attention never wavered from Payne. Hancock glanced down to see a crushed carton of cigarettes clutched in the girl's hands.

_Could you be mine?_

The guard next to Hancock raised his gun to line up a shot. Payne waved at them to lower their weapon. Why didn't she want them to take it? They had a clearer window now.

_Would you be mine?_

_I have always wanted to have a neighbor just like you_

Just then, Hancock could see why. He caught the subtle change in posture, the easing of feral's movements to something more human-like. Payne seemed to be weaving some kind of spell over him, like a ghoul Pied Piper.

_I've always wanted to live in a neighborhood with you_

"Hold up!" he whispered to the Watchman, gently forcing the barrel down with is hand.

_Let's make the most of this beautiful day_

Payne reached out, putting a hand on the ghoul's shoulder. He looked at it as if it were the first hand he had ever seen.

_Since we're together, might as well say_

Carefully she held up the dusty notebook. The ghoul’s unsteady hands took the book, quickly finding the pen tucked between the pages. His face twisted as he frantically wrote something before handing it back.

_Would you be my, could you be my_

Payne read the message and frowned. Dropping the notebook, she placed her hands tenderly on either side of the ghoul's head.

_Won't you be my neighbor?_

She mouthed something to him before giving his neck a quick violent jerk. Payne guided the ghoul's limp body to the ground. She didn’t appear to looking at anything as she walked solemnly back to Hancock’s side.

“Look at all the trouble you caused! Gimmie that carton, you little shit!” spat the mother to her sobbing daughter.

Hancock watched Payne silently walk over to the mother, quickly decking her right in the face.

“Feed your fucking kids.” She spat before stomping off. Everyone else standing around was shocked into momentary silence. Hancock found it hard to suppress a smirk.

He found himself in charge of clean up. It took a bit longer than he had anticipated, but after about a half an hour he finally broke away from the throng as it thinned to try to find where Payne had wandered off to.

He found her sitting on the roof, staring out over the gables, one and half bottles into a three-bottle binge. She didn’t seem to acknowledge his presence as he slid down next to her, their backs pressed against the clapboards of the Old State House’s steeple.

“Sorry...” The words trickled out of her, slow and thick. “But the bitch deserved it. Hope I didn’t cause too much trouble for you.”

“Yeah, she did.” He grabbed the open bottle and nodded for permission. After Payne returned a head bob, he took a swig. “I had a little talk with Jay, the brother. He’s got the good sense to take my advice and become emancipated. Took his sis with him.”

Payne nodded. “Good.”

They shared a few more passes of the bottle. Hancock’s mind buzzed with questions about the ‘why’s and ‘how’s of what he had just witnessed in the alley, but he held his tongue. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be long before Payne would answer those all on her own.

“In high school, I used to volunteer after school at a retirement home. I would play music, do sing-alongs, host dances… that sorta thing. To help entertain the people there. There were quite a few residents with dementia, Alzheimer’s, stuff like that. People who were all but forgotten by their families because they were too hard to care for.” She still wasn’t looking at him; she still stared out as if she was just talking to herself. “These diseases eventually robbed them of everything. They forgot their lives, how to talk… eventually they forgot how to walk, move… everything. They became trapped in their own bodies.” Payne swallowed another mouthful.

She took in a deep breath.

“But sometimes, if I found the right song, something that resonated with them deep in their souls… for a brief moment, they would come back. People who hadn’t moved on their own would sway and dance. A woman who hadn’t talked in over a year started singing along to a song, then she told me about her first dance with her husband. It was like a miracle to watch these people break free of their disease, even if it only lasted for a few minutes.” Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. “I thought… maybe…” She shook her head.

Hancock pulled the notebook she had offered to the ghoul out of his coat, placing it on the ground between them. "How does this figure into it?" In the commotion of the evening, he had only had time for a quick glance.

Payne pulled the book closer to her side and started to slowly flip through the pages. They contained page after page of lists, figure and tables that Hancock couldn't make heads or tails of.

She pointed to several things as she flipped past them, taking a sip every few pages.

"These are lesson plans, syllabuses, course outlines... all for elementary school kids. This guy must have been an educator of some kind... a teacher or principal." Flipping through, the writing got less organized, words spilling over margins, rushing into each other. The stringent ledgers wobbled and teetered, collapsing on themselves. When words started to fail, drawing started to emerge from the chaos, frenzied representations of smiling children playing on alien playgrounds. She stopped when even those morphed into page after page of formless scribbles. She drained the remainder of the bottle.

Hancock was starting to connect the dots. This guy had worked with children a lot before the war; it was his passion. His connection to them is what had anchored him for centuries. But in the wasteland, there were very few places that needed such a person left, much fewer who would be open to having a ghoul as their child's teacher. Hancock saw where Payne was leading him even without any chems helping.

"That is why he wasn't attacking the girl. Enough of him was still there to want to protect her," Hancock devised.

Payne nodded. "And I think he snapped. He saw an innocent kid getting a whipping from her mom for wanting to eat. It was his last straw." She bit her lip. "That's why I thought it was worth the risk to attempt to bring him back. And I did, for a moment." She flipped to the last page in the book. There were two largely illegible words:

_END IT._

She tossed the empty bottle off the roof. It shattered on the cobblestones below, followed by a string of cursing. The commotion startled a few local crows, sending them squawking off into the night sky. Normally, such a display of drunken debauchery would get a laugh from the mayor, but not tonight.

Payne sighed and popped the cork out of the last bottle.

"You gonna share that one?" Hancock tried to grab the bottle, but she shooed his hand away. She was downing these pretty fast.

He expected a wry quip, but all she did was take another long swig while trying to whip away a few errant tears that had started to fall down her cheeks. She grimaced at them, like she was mad at their existence. As the seconds of silence stretched on, it was clear she wasn't up to any more conversation, so they just sat. Hancock was surprised when her head dipped. He nearly thought she had passed out, but she only rested her head on his shoulder. And so they stayed as she drained the final drops of acrid wine from the last bottle.

As they sat, Hancock sifted through memories until he stumbled over something he hadn't thought of in a very long time. Timidly, he started to sing.

_Moon river, wider than a mile_

_I'm crossing you in style some day_

_Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker_

_Wherever you're goin', I'm goin' your way_

_Two drifters, off to see the world_

_There's such a lot of world to see_

_We're after the same rainbow's end, waitin' 'round the bend_

_My huckleberry friend, moon river, and me_

Payne cocked her head awkwardly trying to see his face. "Thaat was pretty goood." The alcohol had begun to slur her words.

"Yeah, I'm not gonna be holding any concerts any time soon... but that's the song my mom used to sing to us to get us to sleep. Ya know, just in case..." He began to realize how much she was starting to lean on him, weighing him down. "Though I think there is a pretty slim chance you're going to remember this tomorrow morning with how much you've had to drink. Come on… let's get you down that ladder while you can still stand." He helped to get her to her feet.

Hancock found his assessment of her sobriety, or lack thereof, was pretty far off. He got her upright then positioned himself to head down the ladder first. He found he had a prime view of her left foot missing a rung, throwing her body off-kilter. To her credit, Payne tried to right herself, but only succeeded in kicking Hancock in the face as she somehow dove face first into the wooded floor below, landing with a wicked thud.

 _Shit!_ Hancock swore under his breath as he quickly slid the rest of the way down the ladder. As his boots hit the old planks, Payne rolled over, a raucous laugh filling the air. Her face started to turn red and purple, but she didn't seem to notice.

Hancock tapped his food in annoyance as he stood over her as she doubled over with laughter. "Seriously?"

Payne snickered. "You ssshould seee your _FACE_!" A trickle of blood trailed down her nose into her wide smile.

"Very funny. I guess I should be thankful you seem pretty damn hard to kill." He kneeled down, draping Payne’s arm over his shoulders firmly. With clumsy steps, he got her to one of the two red couches in his office. After propping her up, he left her to retrieve a bucket and a can of purified water. When Hancock returned, he found her attempting to open another bottle with her teeth.

"Okay, three is enough for tonight," he scoffed as he pulled the brown bottle from her grip as he sat on the coffee table opposite her.

Payne protested. "Awww..."

Hancock found a rag and wiped the blood from her face. It had stopped nearly as quickly as it started, the bruises already fading.

"Why don't you get some sleep. You'll be feeling this in the morning."

Suddenly, Payne lurched forward. Thinking she was about to blow, Hancock's hands reached for the bucket. Instead, he found her drunken goofy face inches from his own. She put a finger on what was left of the bridge of his nose. Hancock froze.

"Yur a good guy. D'n't let anyoone con-fince you odderwise." She placed a quick peck on his cheek. As Hancock sat in shock, he could feel a warmth wash over him.

"I'm sleeeepy." Payne muttered before crashing back down into the cushions. She slid down and was sleeping before Hancock could say a thing.

A voice jolted him out of his stupor.

"Aren't you two a pair of jokers." It was Fahrenheit, leaning against the door jam, arms crossed.

Barely recovered, all that Hancock could shoot back was a quick "Shut up, Fahr." He tried to get up as coolly and quietly as he could manage.

As he passed by her, Fahr quipped, "I didn't even think you _could_ blush anymore."


	32. Gone Fishing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Payne, Hancock and Fahrenheit take a little trip to the coast after the Brotherhood airship passes by Goodneighbor. What could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my back up beta for helping me with this chapter!

Payne suspected a herd of elephants stomping around might make less noise than whatever was parading past the closed office door. She was content ignore everything and bury her head under the cushions until she heard the voices in the hallway filter through.

“… you see it?..” “What the hell…?” “It’s gotta be huge!”

Payne pulled herself upright, her head pounding. She swore her brain was trying to crawl its way out the back of her skull. Stumbling to the door, she cracked it open. A wall of sound and light buffeted her, forcing her to take a step back to steady herself. A gaggle of people appeared to be cramming into Hancock’s room, while others ran up the stairs to the third floor.. Payne grabbed the shoulder of a Watchman as he passed by.

“What’s going on?”

The ghoul turned to her. “There’s some kind of thing, a ship, in the sky. Damnedest thing I’ve seen in a long time.”

Payne’s mind tried to latch onto the new information, to categorize it in some meaningful fashion.

A ship? Like a hot air balloon? Dirigible? It was a harder task than she would have like.

“Where’s Hancock?”

“Up top, I think.” he continued on, trying to push past the throng to crane his neck on the balcony Hancock normally would use to address his adoring fans when he gave public addresses.

She trudged up to the third floor. the room was empty except for the ladder leading up into a blazing bright hole. Payne looked up with dread. She didn’t feel like climbing. Not only was she missing her helmet (she must have misplaced it sometime last night). The ladder looked like it stretched about four stories tall, growing as she stared up at it. She closed her eyes and pressing her temples with her palms. Grabbing a Boston Bugle to shade her eyes and headed up. Keeping to the shadow of the cupula, Payne shifted through the small crowd perched on the roof. Everyone was pointing and gawking. Payne found the afternoon sky nauseatingly bright, but all she managed to steal was a few choice glances at the oblong blot on the horizon.

"You're late." grunted a familiar voice next to her. Payne hadn't noticed she had lumbered up next to Fahrenheit.

Payne managed a grunt and nod. "Any idea what it is?"

Before Fahr could answer, Payne felt a hand on her head, tussling her hair.

"Morning, sleepyhead!" Hancock's smile was nearly as brilliant at the sun. "The Brotherhood of Steel knows how to make a entrance, I'll give'em that."

"Brotherhood?" That wasn't the answer Payne was expecting. "Are you sure?"

Fahr crossed her arms. "That's what they were blaring across the 'Wealth. You could have heard it yourself, if you had gotten your ass up here earlier." Great. Fahr was still pissed.

"Give it a break, Fahr." Hancock squeezed Payne's shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit." Payne was pretty sure she looked like shit, too. "If it looks like Goodneighbor isn't going to be immediately invaded by these guys..."

Hancock waved her off. "Go get some rest. I'll get you if a bunch of brothers come-a-knocking."

Payne didn't waste any more time. She excused herself, found her things and returned to her own bed.

After a few days, they once again settled back into their old routines, only it was clear to Payne that Hancock was stewing over the new player in the field. He paid handsomely for intel, even sending out scouts to scope out the areas surrounding the Brotherhood's apparent base of operations; the Boston Airport. So far, it appeared they were sending out exploration parties of their own, mostly to tech heavy locales. Payne didn't have all that much experience with them. If she had happened to come across the odd band of them out west, she avoided them. What annoyed her the most was the drone of their vertibirds as they briskly buzzed past town. Luckily, it seemed like Goodneighbor was low on their list of priorities.

One afternoon, a surprise knock on her hotel door startled Payne as she dressed for the day. A watchman told her curtly that the mayor needed to talk to her.

“The Mayor also said to make sure to bring your rifle and extra… um…. juice boxes?”

Confused, Payne rushed through her afternoon routine to arrive at the Old State House a few hours before her shift officially started. On the step, she ran into Hancock and Fahr quarrelling. A backpack lay on the ground next to Hancock’s feet.

“Come on, Fahr! It’ll be fun! When was the last time you let your hair down?” Hancock was trying hard to spread his exuberant attitude to Fahr. From what Payne saw, it was not working.

“This is stupid, Hancock, and you know it.” Fahr’s face was stone-set.

Payne's presence finally registering, Hancock bounded over to her, his eyes twinkling. “See, Payne’s all ready to go! Aren't ya, Sport?”

“What exactly is going on? Where are we going? And don't call me 'Sport'.”

“Spoilsport!" That got him a look. "You’re in for a real treat! We’re going to go for a nice little walk down by the beach. Got the fixin’s for a mirelurk bake, a little booze…” Fahr huffed. “Quit being a party pooper! Payne’s never seen where I grew up. This’ll be a good chance for her to see it!”

Suddenly, Payne’s helmet suddenly felt uncomfortably warm. Hancock wanted to show her his childhood home?

“You only want to stomp around out there to get a closer look at that flying Brotherhood ship!” Fahr sniped back.

Hancock’s smile grew wider. “You wound me, Fahr,” he sassed back.

“And,” Fahr added, “You don’t need all of us to go to sneak a peek. Someone should stay…”

“The town isn’t gonna burn down if we skip out for a night. We're not going to start a freaking settlement out there. You need to relax.” And with that, Hancock grabbed his bag and headed towards the gate, ending the argument. Fahr grumbled, cursing under her breath as she passed, nodding her head to press Payne to follow. Payne just shrugged and took up the rear.

The trio picked their way through the city, careful to avoid raiders and nests of super mutants. They made pretty good time until the buildings started to thin out. There, they started to follow the crumbling highways, the lack of cover making them cautious. Hancock stopped several times to gauge his bearings, the dank sewage smelling sea breeze blew in from the waterfront.

“5 caps says he never finds the place,” scoffed Fahr during one of the pit stops. The giant metal airship loomed in the distance.

“You’re on.” Payne quipped back.

Hancock cocked his head. “I heard you! And it’s this way!” He pointed farther down the beach, his bodyguards shaking their heads, snickering behind him.

Payne found herself focusing on picking her way around the fetid seaweed and rotting animal carcasses when Fahr’s hand on her shoulder stopped her in her tracks. Hancock had stopped and was digging through his pack.

“Figured those nasty bastards would move in…” he mumbled as he rummaged around. “They were becoming quite the persistent pests before we moved to the city.”

“What?” asked Payne.

“See that shack over there? Around that little alcove?” Payne squinted, trying to see the structure. “Well, that’s it… but it looks like we are going to have to work up a little sweat to get there.”

Sure enough, several clutches of eggs dotted the sand between them and the shack. Hancock pulled a couple of handfuls of frag grenades from the bag, handing a bunch to each of his companions.

With a wink, he took a few of his own. “Light’em up!” Pulling a pin, he let the first one fly. It landed square in the center of the nearest nest. The eggs splattered spectacularly in flames. Payne readied her rifle, while Fahr took aim with more grenades. Like clockwork, the ground started to vibrate and lurch. In a barrage of shrapnel and bullets, the three of them ended up taking down four mirelurks. They dragged the largest one towards the ramshackle assemblage of sheet metal walls. The single room shack had seen better days. Two of the four walls had collapsed, leaving the roof barely attached.

"I know it's not much to look at, but it was home for the three of us for a long time." Hancock hung his hat on a nearby stray nail on the corrugated metal wall. He grabbed a crowbar he had brought along and smiled. Jamming it in between the joints of the mirelurks' carapace, he strained to crack the creatures shell open.

"Give me that. You're just going to destroy the shell, then we won't have anything to cook it in." Fahrenheit shooed him away. Moving the tool along the seam, she started to deftly split the shell with a satisfying series of snaps.

Payne smiled. "Guess that means we're on fire duty." They quickly found enough drift wood and old bits of lumber to have a sizeable fire going by the time Fahr had opened the beast. Payne watched as Hancock and Fahrenheit worked together to clean and carve up the useable meat. They tasked her with filling the bowl of the shell with some water, flavoring it with some of the wine and salty sea water. After that, she set it over the fire to boil. Soon, they sat down to a ample spread of boiled mirelurk, butter and more wine. Payne made sure to stay under the remainder of the roof as she ate, watching the sunset from the shadows. Hancock talked a little bit about his childhood, his favorite pranks and exploits. Conversation soon turned to the Brotherhood and it's looming implications.

"Seems like they have been picking over tech heavy targets." Fahrenheit said between bites. "They have the muscle to take on just about any nasties they find. Mutants, synths, ferals... you name it."

Payne wiped her mouth. "You think they are here because of the Institute? I mean, they have a shit ton of crazy tech."

"Maybe? Wouldn't it be nice if they just went and took care of each other?" Hancock leaned back on his elbows.

"And who do you think would pay the price in that war? Ordinary people." Payne shook her head. "They always do."

"True enough," agreed Fahr.

The night had started to cool off as dusk turned into nearly clear night. Payne moved out to enjoy the warm fire. The airship lit up the sky, a strangely out of place light show. They watched and talked as vertibirds occasionally buzzed to and fro. It seemed to take up most of the sky. The engine noise brought back prewar memories for Payne, like nostalgic music track backing their conversation. Between the presence of the Brotherhood and their clearing of the beach earlier, the area seemed to be blessedly free of hostiles. Against all odds, it was turning out to be a pleasant excursion. Even Fahr seemed to be relaxing a bit. Maybe this trip wouldn't be such a waste of their time after all.


	33. The Hook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing ever goes to plan... The Brotherhood interfere with a perfectly good beach party.

 

Hancock was half way through telling Payne and Fahrenheit about the time he dared his 10-year-old brother to ride a wild brahmin for a bottle of Nuka Cola when he noticed one of the Vertibirds circling a bit too close for his liking. With a slight nod, he caught Fahr’s attention and directed it to the encroaching aircraft. Unexpectedly, the vehicle dipped down close to the horizon. In the dark, it was hard to see beyond the sandbanks, but Hancock was fairly certain he saw some hulking silhouettes jump from its open sides before it returned to its circling pattern.

“These Brotherhood guys aren’t exactly subtle, are they?” He popped a Mentat in his mouth, downing it with a few swallows from the bottle in his hands.

As Fahr readied her weapon, Hancock shook his head.

“We gotta play this cool.”

Scowling, Fahr put it back down, keeping it within easy reach. Payne moved to sit next to him just as four people crested the hill. Three were in power armor. They stopped at the edge of the ring of firelight. The fourth, a woman in a drab and orange bodysuit, stepped forward. All held laser rifles in their hands.

"We are clearing this area of non-Brotherhood personnel. You need to move along," ordered the woman, addressing Fahrenheit directly. Fahr just scowled.

"It's such a nice night, why don't you join us and have something to eat." He motioned jovially to the roasted meat remaining in their unconventional cooking pot, a carefully crafted smile spread across his face. He was calculating the odds of them taking on such a heavily armored group, hoping it wouldn't come to that.

"Soldiers do not fraternize with Commonwealth... _citizens_." Hancock had the feeling if she could have set him on fire with her eyes, she would have. She turned back to Fahr. "Your camp is too close to the airport. Leave or you will be removed."

"Come on, there is no need for all that. We'll be gone in the morn... HEY NOW!" Hancock protested as a steel clad boot swiftly kicked over the pot, dousing the fire with leftover mirelurk meat and juice. Everyone rose to their feet, the air tense. Payne and Fahr looked to him for direction. These guys were acting like they were itching for a fight. Hancock wasn't about to indulge them.

"We're not going to ask again."

"Fine. Fine. We're going." He started to pack up the few things that were laying around. Payne and Fahr followed suit, keeping their eyes glued to the soldiers. "The Commonwealth isn't exactly a cakewalk at night, ya know."

"Not my problem, _zombie_."

Hancock could see Payne clench her jaw, but keep whatever she was thinking to herself.

They trudged back up the sandbars in the dark. It wasn't hard to spot the Vertibird that tailed them. When they reached the edge of the city, it turned back in the direction of the airport.

"That wasn't exactly what I had planned." Hancock shook his head. _Good to know the Commonwealth found another bully in their midst._ Fahr laid a hand on his shoulder briefly before passing him to take point.

"There's a group of buildings up there. There might be a decent place to hole up for the night," she suggested.

They found a clump of old shops along the wide crumbling road. As they walked, Hancock found himself looking back at Payne. The pale moonlight outlined her features in a particularly pleasing way; a bit softer than the harsh electric lights in Goodneighbor. He found himself liking being out and about with her again.

Two of the buildings looked promising enough to attempt a closer look. Payne took up watch as he tried the door on the first building. It looked like it might have been a bar, with small boarded up windows. The door only budged a few inches as he pushed. It took both him and Fahr to force it open; the boxes that barricaded it shut scraped noisily against the tile floor inside.

Payne looked back to them. “Anything inside?”

Fahr stuck her head in, peering around the door. “Nah, just a skeleton. We should sweep for ferals, just in case.”

Payne nodded and turned to enter when an echoing howl broke the still night around them. Turning on their heels, a snarling mutant hound bounded across the street towards them.

“Shit!” spat Payne, opening fire with her rifle and missing.

Fahr managed to sink a bullet into its flank, but it continued its deadly charge. As Hancock took aim and fired into the beasts head, a super mutant popped their head around the corner of the opposite building.

“Die puny human!” it screamed as it lobbed a grenade into the air.

“TAKE COVER!” Hancock shouted.

The trio scrambled for cover. Fahrenheit dove head first into the building while Payne and Hancock ducked behind debris on opposite side of the door.

Bits of stone and metal fragments bounced off the overturned vending machine protecting Hancock. His ears rang as he lined up and shot at the aggravated mutant. It look him a moment to notice Payne frantically waving her arm for him to get down, her yelling muted by the recent explosion. After glancing over his shoulder, he dropped back down on his knees behind his cover. Behind him, charging down the road at full tilt was a super mutant, a mini nuke in the crook of its left arm. He couldn’t hear the telltale beep of its deadly payload over his temporary tinnitus. Payne unloaded half a clip into the mutant’s head, the body skidding to a stop a few feet from Hancock, the nuke thankfully still intact.

Hancock turned to give Payne a quick thanks, just in time to see the super mutant who had been hiding behind the building sprint to her side. It wrapped a huge meaty hand around her throat, lifting her off her feet. Her feet kicked wildly as the mutant began to squeeze, her mouth gasping to breathe.

Shoving a pair of shells into his shotgun, Hancock tried to unload them into the mutant’s face. He only succeeded in grazing their shoulder. It turned to face him, snarling in rage.

The snarl quickly turned to scream of pain, the mutant’s new target was quickly forgotten. Payne grabbed two of its branch-like fingers and pulled; the sickening snap of bones forcing the creature’s hand to open. Hancock was about to let out a sigh of relief as Payne dropped to the ground, but he saw face splattered with super mutant blood from his shotgun blast. Her eyes, bloodshot to the point of being little more than red orbs, were wild and crazed. His stomach dropped as she hungrily licked the mutant blood from around her mouth.

He felt he was moving in slow motion as Payne turned and crawled up the green giant’s body. She locked herself around the monster’s head, fingers dug knuckle deep into the flesh under its massive jaw. Blood poured down the beast’s massive chest as it danced wildly; beating its thick muscled fists on her back in an attempt to break the deadly lock. She barely register the blows. Payne heaved and pulled, struggling to rip the skull free from the shoulders she sat on.

Her mouth twisted into a startling grimace as she screamed in rage. Hancock watched her veins pop in grotesque patterns over her straining muscles. With a sickening crack, the mutant fell to the ground, Payne rolling with it, landing on her feet. Her eyes locked with his, just for a moment. Suddenly another mutant hound appeared, snarling with rage as it ran towards them. Payne immediately snarled back and ran to meet it.

A bewildered Fahr ducked out of the way as Hancock dove into building.

“Close the door!” he ordered.

“What?”

“DO IT!”

They both pressed themselves against the warped wooden door. The rusty metal hinges screamed in protest before giving up and swinging closed.

Hunkered down below a boarded up window, Fahr asked frustratedly, “What the fuck is going on?”

“Stay down.” Hancock snuck a peek outside through the spaces in the boards. He didn’t have time to explain right now.

More mutants had circled around, taking aim at Payne as she caught the hounds jaws mid-lunge. With one yank, she ripped off its lower jaw. Leaving it mortally wounded in the street, she rushed the remaining mutants. Hancock saw several bullets hit, but Payne didn’t even flinch as she ran directly for the group. They quickly retreated back around the corner with Payne in hot pursuit.

Hancock tried to formulate a quick answer to satisfy Fahr. The sound of screaming and gunfire was making it hard to concentrate. “Super mutant blood is like Psycho for her… really _concentrated_ Psycho.” He winced as another explosion ripped through the air.

“And you were going to tell me this when?”

All Hancock could do was shrug weakly. If looks could kill, Hancock would have been dead on the spot. After a few minutes under Fahr’s gaze, he realized gravely that the gunfire and yelling had stopped. They held their breath as they waited in the dusty dark for any signs of life.

The seconds ticked by. Hancock couldn’t stand it any longer. He turned to head out the door. As his hand reached for the door handle, Fahrenheit grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back.

“Where the hell do you think you're going?” She was furious.

“I have to see if Payne is alright. You stay here.”

“Like hell I am!”

Hancock didn’t know how Payne would react to Fahr, especially if she was still neck deep in her mutant-blood filled trip or if she perceived her as a threat. Not that he was too sure how Payne would react to _him_ , but he had to know. “No, you have to stay here. Cover me.” Fahr started to argue. He cut her off. “Cover me.”

Before he could get through the doorway, he saw movement across the road. Payne slowly walked along the side of the building, dragging herself along the brick wall. She left a shoulder high bloody streak. Her tired body covered in grime and gore, she looked around, panicked and bewildered.

“John?” she called weakly. “Fahr?”

Hancock stepped forward. “Payne?”

When her eyes drifted up to see him, her shoulders slumped as she let out a sigh. “Oh, thank god…” She gripped the wall in an attempt to mover herself along quicker. Hancock began to run to her side, but she collapsed face-first as she stumbled into the street.

“Payne!” Hancock quickly helped her up.

“John… Fahr? Is she…” she struggled to get the words out.

“She’s fine. She’s inside.” Under his fingers, he could feel her frame shaking. He pulled her arm over his shoulders, helping her to her feet. She tried to support herself, but her muscles were failing. “Let’s get you out of the open.” Payne took a few more steps before her head rolled forward and she collapsing again. Hancock stumbled.

“Fahr! I need some help.” he called desperately.

Fahr emerged from the doorway. She studied Payne before hesitantly grabbing her other arm. Quickly they drug her unconscious body into the relative safety of the building. As they lowered her to the floor, Payne perked up. She seemed to not know where she was, looking around frantically again.

“John? Fahr?”

“It’s okay, we’re fine,” Hancock tried to soothe and reassure her again. He took out a small lantern from his pack and started to look over Payne. She was clearly exhausted and in shock, her eyes struggling to stay open. What really worried him was the nastly burn that extended the entire length of her left leg. He got out a can of water for her to drink, but she collapsed before he could hand it to her. He cursed under his breath.

Fahr paced angrily. The sound of her boots grated his frayed nerves.

“Could you go make a sweep out there? Make sure no other mutants are going to surprise us. Take the leftover grenades.”

“We just watched Payne go all ‘Grognak-the-Barbarian’ and you want to be alone with her?” she balked.

“She can barely walk, Fahr, even if she _was_ awake. It shouldn’t take you long just to look.”

Fahrenheit scowled. “If I come back and she’s pulling off your arms and beating you with them, I’m just going to watch and laugh.” She steamed off.

Hancock shook his head and focused on the task at hand. Pouring the water on a rag, he started to clean the gore from Payne’s face, pulling chunks from her hair. He inspected her burn. It was a deep, and filled with debris and remnants of fabric. It needed to be cleaned out before it started to heal.

Suddenly, he heard retching coming from outside. He put the water down carefully next to Payne before poking his head out the door. Fahr stood doubled over across the street, heaving into an ancient concrete planter. A bad feeling started to prickle the back of his brain.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he crossed the street quickly, feeling it would be tempting fate to leave Payne alone for too long in the state she was in.

Fahrenheit gasped for air. Unable to form words, she just pointed behind the building.

Hancock rounded the corner and immediately stopped. Inside the façade of the gutted building lay a half-dozen giant green bodies in various stages of dismemberment. Returning to Fahr’s side, he found himself fighting a wave of lightheadedness.

Taking off his hat with one hand, Hancock ran his other hand over his snarled scalp. “Well, that’s all kinds of fucked up.”

“Ya THINK?” Fahr spat back. “It looks like she fucking _climbed through_ a few of them.” Her eyes were on fire as she glared at him. “And you were going to tell me about this _when_?”

Hancock shrugged uncomfortably. “It didn’t really come up.”

“HANCOCK! Seriously? What would have happened if she went nuts in town and ripped through… god knows how many people?”

“That’s not going to happen. There is no reason for there to be any super mutant blood anywhere in town. Besides, I told Charley to only give her clean drinks.”

“What about out here? We could have ended up in that pile!”

Hancock shook his head. “That didn’t happen. She wouldn’t do something like that.”

Fahr’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Then why did we hide?” Hancock paused, eyes narrowing. Fahrenheit took this as proof she right. “Payne is dangerous, and you know it. Leave her here. If the other shit you’ve told me is true, she'll be fine."

He could feel his chest get tight, his face tighten. “She hasn’t killed anyone who hasn’t deserved it! And she saved our asses just now!”

“Quit thinking with your dick and think with your head! She’s not worth the risk!”

He stomped the crumbling cement. “Fahr!”

He meant for that to end the argument, but Fahr had other ideas. “No, John. Not this time. I’m not playing this game. I’m leaving. You need to come with me.”

They stared at each other in the still dark night. Stone faced, Fahrenheit turned on her heels and walked away, leaving Hancock alone in the middle of the vacant street.

This trip was definitely not going as planned. He had wanted a little jaunt to stretch his legs. Maybe they'd get some firsthand look at the Brotherhood. If Fahr and Payne could work out some of their kinks, even better. _What a shit-fest_.

He started a small fire and kept watch over Payne until she started to stir about an hour later. She woke bewildered like before, calling out for Hancock and Fahr.

“I’m here, Payne,” he sounded a bit more tired than he intended.

“Where’s Fahr?” she asked tensely.

“She’s fine…” He guided her attention away from Fahr’s absence. “How are you feeling? You did quite a number on those mutants.”

“I hurt all over. My leg… is it burned?” She tried to bend to see the swath of burned fabric covering her raw leg. “Oh, shit. That’s bad.”

“Do you recall what happened?”

“I don’t…” she struggled for words. “I don’t remember much. I remember the suicider… and then one grabbed me,“ her hand went instinctively to her throat, then to her mouth. She grimaced and looked down, shame on her face. Her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke next. “Did I hurt her?”

“No. You didn’t lay a finger on either of us. Fucked those muties right up, though.”

She was silent for a while. "Did you two fight?"

Hancock nodded his head.

"She thinks I'm a monster." he didn't move this time. More silence. "You know, she's right."

"When I became Mayor of Goodneighbor, I made sure everyone knew that everyone was welcome. No judgments. I still stand by that."

He could see by her eyes that she had a hard time believing that. "I just have to double check that Charley keeps the super mutant martinis off the menu." He felt he had won a small victory as she cracked the smallest of smiles.

"Now," he continued. "We need to get to some nasty business. That leg needs to be cleaned out, and it ain't gunna tickle."

"Bring it..." she didn't sound so sure. "I can get most of it, probably to the knee. But after that, I'm gonna need some help."

Hancock had studied the wound.” Many of the edges appeared fused with the burn.  "First off, we need to get those pants off.”

She propped herself up on her elbows, chuffed and ignored the innuendo. “That’s not going to be easy… just cut the leg off.”

Hancock froze for a second before he realized she meant the pant leg. He grabbed his knife.

“I’ll get it.” Payne grabbed the blade from him, slipping the blade between the fabric and her skin. Her weakened state combined with some very awkward angles, she struggled to cut it, but the edge was sharp and soon Hancock was helping her remove the blood soaked denim. Exhausted, she dropped back to the floor, sweating and panting.

Recovering her breath, she asked “Could you get that bag of concrete?” She pointed to the corner of the room. “I am going to need something to lean on.”

Hancock was sure the prewar package would split under the stress of being moved, but it stayed intact as he slid it into place. Payne pulled out the two blood bags she had packed, a prize for once they finished. Over the next hour and a half, the two of them worked in tandem to remove bits of burned fabric and embedded rocks from her leg. Payne grunted and hissed as the pain peaked and ebbed. Pulling her boot and sock off earned the bag of concrete a few choice punches. Washing the wound was reserved to the very end, their clean water supply pitifully low. When Hancock finally gave the all clear, she guzzled the blood down greedily.

Morning had begun to lazily stream through the board-covered windows as Payne’s wounds started to ever so slowly close.

“Mind handing me a stimpak?” She asked. “It’ll help a little bit.”

“Won’t it make you sleepy?” Hancock asked as he handed one over.

“Yeah, but with daybreak, I’m not going anywhere soon.” She stuck the needle into her bare thigh and pushed the plunger down.

Hancock scrounged up a pair of Potato Crisps, tossing one to Payne. They munched in silence.

“Why did you stay? I would have been fine.”

“Would you have come back to Goodneighbor, if I left?” Payne didn’t answer. “That’s why. You’re a halfway decent bodyguard. Plus, I trust you.”

“What about Fahr? She’s not going to be too happy to see me when we get back.”

“You really think this is the worst thing I’ve ever done?”

Payne shrugged.

“She’ll get over it. She always does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my backup beta, Saberwriter, for helping me out!

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I recently found a treasure trove of old old family photos. I plan on using them to spice up my posts. Many of them are from (my best guess) the 30′s, 40′s and 50′s… but some are older. They may, or may not, have anything to do with the story. Some of them I just like. I may post them as is, or use some photo editing to change them. We shall see.
> 
> 2\. I may include music links that I feel go with the chapter or relate in some way.
> 
> 3\. I do not have an update schedule at this time. Due to real life, it is just not feasible right now. Sorry.
> 
> 4\. This is being copied from my tumblr fan fic (https://antiquechampagne.tumblr.com/StoryArchive) so the chapters are going to probably be pretty short and episodic.
> 
> Social Media handles:  
> [Antique Champagne Site](https://antiquechampagne.weebly.com/%22)  
> [Main Tumblr](http://fuzzyizmit.tumblr.com/) [Fic Tumblr](http://antiquechampagne.tumblr.com/) [Youtube (streaming)](https://www.youtube.com/user/fuzzyizmit)


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